


A Lady in His Shield

by Soonerwxgirl



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soonerwxgirl/pseuds/Soonerwxgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only one King can bring France out of the ashes of war-Francis, from the all but extinct House of Valois. To unite his country and move them forward into a new age, he must honor the decades old betrothal to the young Queen of Scotland, Mary, safely hidden in the mountains. Little did Francis know his choice her escort to court might set in motion events that could change nations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!
> 
> A bow-shot from her bower-eaves; He rode between the barley-sheaves;
> 
> The sun came dazzingly thro' the leaves; and flam'd upon the brazed greaves of bold Sir Lancelot
> 
> A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd; to a lady in his shield; that sparkled on the yellow field; beside remote Shalott
> 
> Alfred Lord Tennyson "The Lady of Shalott"

The flames of destruction covered France in a layer of darkness. Between the English, and the Holy Roman Empire, France had been a battleground ripe for the conquest for years. After decades of bloodshed, France won the ultimate battle, but at a terrible cost. Nobles were displaced all across Europe. The Royal family was in shambles, and a majority of the French countryside had been reduced to rubble, scorched earth reflecting the sadness within the French people.

One man rose from the ashes. One man declared he would rebuild a new France, a France that would shine brighter than any diamond.

"To Francis!" A man's voice cried, while he slammed his tankard of ale against the large wooden table. Echoes of 'To Francis' rose from around their makeshift meeting hall. It was the only room left intact in Chateau de Blois.

Francis rose, smiling, from his seat near the head of the table. His golden curls were the only outward reflection of his age, making him appear younger than his true years. A simple circlet of gold crowned his head, the only adornment marking him as King he would wear, albeit grudgingly. The real indication of his might and strength was his father's sword, hanging imperiously from the worn leather scabbard at this waist.

"Thank you, brother." He replied, tipping his tankard toward the initiator of the cheer. Though they shared a father and a few of his features, the brother's were easy to tell apart. The golden curls versus the disheveled brown locks were one main characterizing distinction. The other was their eyes. Francis had always been jealous of his brother's green eyes, not for any reason other than it made his features stand out amongst a crowd. "Sebastian, it is my turn to congratulate you. The work that has commenced on restoring the Chateau is splendid. Let us hope enough will be complete for my new brides arrival!"

Another round of 'Here, Here!' and 'God Bless King Francis!' weaved through the broken halls. Raising a hand to silence his lords, Francis turned again towards his brother. "Bash, I have a great task for you." Turning to address the entirety of his congregation, Francis continued. "As you all know, France needs an ally as we begin rebuilding this great country, and I need a wife." Murmurings of ascents floated by Bash's ears as he listened to his brother. "You may remember that years ago, before Charles V made his last attempt to conquer our beautiful France, my beloved parents, may God keep their souls, betrothed me to the young Mary, future Queen of Scotland."

Sebastian knew the story, as did all those who were left in court. Mary had been brought to France as a child to be raised in the French Court. But a few short months after her arrival, she was heralded away into the mountains as Charles V and his vast armies attempted their last effort to conquer France, and eventually England. Sebastian knew she had been kept safe outside Andorra La Vella, snugly situated in the Pyrenees mountains, and close enough to Spain to be free from the invasive threat of the Holy Roman Emperor.

"I have decided it is time we honor that treaty!" A deep hum filled the room as the men banged their tankards on the tables. Sebastian felt the vibration of the hum within him, as if this new beginning for France was awakening a new version of himself. He felt his own mug join in the ruckus, enjoying the revelry with his comrades. Once the noise levels began to recede, Francis continued. "Now, we all know Lady Mary is hidden safely away near the Spanish border. There is only one man I would entrust to bring her safely from within the mountains down to French court. Brother!"

Sebastian had been half-heartedly listening to Francis' words, mainly soaking in the sights and sounds of victory, and hope, when he heard his brother call for him.

"Brother, I am entrusting you to safely escort my future bride from her hideaway in the mountains." None of the men surrounding Sebastian were surprised. He was the country's fastest rider, one of it's most skilled swordsman, and right hand man of the King. If anyone would be chosen for such a task, it was he.

Francis made his way over to Sebastian, grasping his shoulder firmly, tankards of ale clanking around them.

"I thank you for the honor, brother." Sebastian acknowledged Francis heartily, inclining his head as was appropriate. He was touched by his brother's trust in him.

"There is no one I trust more, Bash. See that Lady Mary arrives here safely." Francis' sincerity bore through Sebastian. They were brother's, well half-brother's, who had each others backs since they were children. Even now, on the eve of complete peace, they were still taking care of each other.

"You know I will, my King." Francis laughed exorbitantly, his voice mingling with the laughter and mirth of the other men in the hall.

"Oh, enough of the formalities, Bash. Let us enjoy this evening. For the first time in ages, it is a quiet night."

They sat quietly for a few moments, watching the shadows of their men dance amongst the Chateau ruins. As he looked around their once beautiful home, he knew it needed much work before it would be fit for a Lady, let alone a Queen.

"When am I to escort Lady Mary?" He asked quietly, breaking the silence. He watched Francis sit quietly, unsure if his brother heard him, or if he was deep in thought himself.

"Honestly, I want you to leave tomorrow. It is a good week's ride to the mountains, and I have already sent a letter ahead so you will be expected, and Lady Mary will be informed. I would like if you spent some time with her and her ladies. She was left in the best of care with the Lord and Lady Carme, but she may be wary of court life."

"Court life? There has been no court in years. I am not sure what I might help her understand?"

"You see, that is just it, Bash. She will help us rebuild our home, our country, even our court. The wars barely touched the mountain villages. She may have no idea what awaits her here." Sadness weaved through Francis' words, for both brother's mourned the toll war had taken on their country and way of life.

"And I am to teach her?" Bash inquired, still unsure of his brother's intentions.

"Not so much teach, but guide her. Answer her questions, be the Duke I know is in there." At these words, Bash chuckled. The weight that was beginning to mount on his shoulders felt briefly lighter. This was a great task indeed, preparing the future Queen to what awaits her in the countryside.

"I will do my best."

"As you always do, brother. Please take Claude and Luke with you, for security purposes. The mountains should be safe, but we have not ventured that far south in awhile."

Sebastian nodded, bidding good night to his King and brother. He sought out his two fellow riders, explaining to them the task ahead. They were elated to be accompanying him to bring their future Queen to court.

As the rest of the men relished the evening's festivities, Bash headed to the small area that served as his room. Consisting of three walls and a roof, he was at least protected by the elements. Before undressing for the night, he scanned the halls with their broken walls. Scaffolding braced regions where he had directed repairs to begin. It would be a long process, but the Chateau would be returned to it's former glory. In his opinion, it would be even grander than before, showing the world that France did not crumble under pressure. Before saying good night to his brother, Francis had finally gave him a time-frame for guiding the Lady Mary. He wanted Bash and his men to spend a month with them in the mountain village. Sebastian hoped the repairs he was overseeing would continue in that time, preparing a least some rooms to be fit for women.

Women.

Throughout the years of war, Sebastian, Francis and their men traveled as a group of warriors. They had no time for a woman's companionship, unless the towns in which they stopped briefly had not been pillaged. Even then, whatever short-term satisfaction they gained did not fill the deeper need for love and family. Shaking his head, Bash visualized the scene that would unfold when they all arrived back at court. There would be Lady Mary, already destined for King Francis, and then her two, or maybe even four ladies, who would be catching the eyes of at least a hundred or more men. _I will worry about that later,_ Bash thought.

Removing his shirt, and settling down on his plat of blankets, Bash eagerly closed his eyes, praying sleep would come quickly. Tomorrow would begin a new adventure, one that would likely change his brother's life, and the life of France. And if he was lucky, it might just change his life as well.

* * *

It took Bash and his men roughly a week, just as Francis had told him, to reach the small village of Andorra La Vella, where Lady Mary was residing within the home of the Lord and Lady Carme. He had been amazed at how untouched by war the mountain villages had been. Normal day-to-day activities were ongoing, as if there had been no war at all. The earth was not scorched, the homes were intact, and the few people they met on the road were friendly. Despite the need for extra security, not knowing what they might find this far south, Bash was pleased with the promise the land held. The promise that one day, the whole of France might be like this again.

After their brief introduction's, Sebastian was informed Lady Mary and her ladies were enjoying the pleasant afternoon in the meadow.

"It is probably best if we may freshen up before meeting the Lady Queen." Sebastian offered, realizing he and his men were covered in dirt from their travels, and also smelled quite disgustingly of horse sweat.

"Yes, of course, let my man show you to your rooms. You all are most welcome guests in our home." Lord Carme spoke kindly, gesturing to a man of his livery to escort Sebastian, Claude, and Luke to their rooms. Not too many minutes later, all three men emerged from their rooms, ready to make their introductions and meet their future Queen.

Indeed, it was a pleasant afternoon. The sun hid between the clouds now and then, casting faint shadows on the grass as it did. Bash had assured Lord Carme they would need no assistance finding the Lady Mary, as long as he pointed them in the right direction. Turning the corner away from the home's garden, he could see the circle of ladies seated beneath the shade of an oak tree, right on the edge of a small meadow. He turned, motioning to Claude and Luke to look up ahead. Francis had not seen Mary since he was a child, so he had offered no physical description for Sebastian. They approached slowly, Bash's vision carefully inspecting each lady as he approached.

The ladies caught sight of the approaching men, standing slowly but acting unafraid. Bash bowed slightly, Claude and Luke following suit. "Ladies, I am Sebastian, Duke of Poitiers. This is Claude, Marquis de la Chambre, and Luke, the Viscount of Lanques. We have come to escort the Lady Mary and her ladies to the Chateau de Blois, your future home, and the home of the French court."

"Yes, sir Duke, we received the letter from our King that you would be arriving soon." Bash noticed the woman towards the back of the circle stepped forward, her eyes boring into his own. "I am Lady Mary, Queen of Scotland." Sebastian gaped at her, for she was the most beautiful of the ladies in the group. Her raven hair hung down over her shoulders, shining like black ink beneath the sun's rays. Her dress, not ornate as he was expecting for her station, was red, a stark contrast to her skin, which though pale in comparison to his own, was darkened by time spent outdoors. He realized he was being impolite, staring at her as was, but he could not turn his head away. He barely noticed the other four ladies around Mary, for she held his complete and undivided attention.

Bash had also forgotten his two men flanked him on either side, until Claude nudged his shoulder as he stood awestruck by the Lady Mary. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, bowing respectfully in an attempt to hide the blush that crept up his cheeks. The sniggers around Lady Mary assured him he had not been successful in covering the awe he felt at witnessing Mary's beauty and grace first hand. She shushed her ladies politely, returning her fierce gaze back to him. From deep within, a primal urge to protect her, to love her, began to bubble. Bash felt the unease in his stomach, the flutter of his heart, and the clamminess of his hands. He sensed the confused stares of Claude and Luke from behind him, their eyes worriedly following his motions.

As he stepped forward, Mary extended her hand in greeting. Bash was unaccustomed to such brazen forwardness by one of noble birth, but he accepted her hand graciously. A sense of calm flowed through him at her touch, and yet his hand burned. She held his gaze unwaveringly, their gazes locked as if they were the only two people in the small meadow. A small gasp of surprised escaped Mary's lips, and she withdrew her hand suddenly. Flustered, she took a step back, her eyes rapidly glancing everywhere but at him.

Regaining his composure, Sebastian bowed again, his formality as the King's half-brother reasserted itself. "My Lady, we are honored to finally meet you. We have come to escort to Chateau de Blois as I said, and we will see to it you arrive safely to your new home."

"To be Francis' wife? Yes, I am aware. I will graciously respect the treaty my parents arranged all those years ago, though marrying a man I hardly know is rather strange."

"Mary!" Sebastian saw one of the lady's behind Mary sway as she hissed the warning to her Queen.

"I understand, Your Grace. Please have no fear, for your gracious King is a gracious man as well." He could sense the approving smiles of Claude and Luke behind him, hoping he erased his earlier mishap. He offered his arm to Mary. "May we escort you back to the house for dinner?"

Mary nodded, fitting her hand around his arm. Just the mere touch from this woman he only just met sent goosebumps traveling along his arm.

He knew, in that moment, that she would forever change his life. The woman that was destined to marry his brother, and be Queen, would rule his country, and his heart. The hardest thing he would now do is spend a month with her, getting to know her, guiding her in the ways of their newly developing court, only to take her back to be his brother's wife.

_Damn my life,_ he thought, _for I will be damned to love her._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I am excited to lead you through this AU version of Reign.
> 
> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!

Dinner with the Lord and Lady Carme was anything but relaxing for Sebastian. The Master of the House had many queries regarding the happenings in and around the heart of France, or what was left of the great country. The pain of recounting the carnage, the burnt earth, and the heartache was difficult for him. He had watched helplessly as men died before his eyes, as homes were burned, as lives were irrevocably altered. Sometimes, in the dark and quiet of night, he could still hear their screams; some were screams of pain, others, anger and frustration. Sebastian was not sure how much of France's dark times he needed to divulge to Mary, since she was going to be so crucial in leading France forward instead of living in the past. It would be hard for him to tell the stories, and he imagined it would be even harder for her to hear. Most women detested the talk of war, and having done nothing more than speak greetings with Mary, Sebastian decided to err on the side of caution.

"I am sorry if this talk of war bores you, Lady Mary." Sebastian began, wiping his hands on the towel in his lap as he finished his dinner. She raised her eyebrows in response, tilting her head ever so slightly, and Bash realized he had assumed incorrectly.

"Quite the contrary, my dear Duke. If I am to help guide this country towards better years, I must know all that has passed, for only then can I make the best decisions moving forward." The conviction in Mary's voice rang strong, and Sebastian, once again, gazed in awe at the woman before him. He had been but a young boy when the war started, but he vividly remembered his mother always changing the conversation if the topic was brought up. _'Women have no use for war,'_ she would say. But that sentiment did not hold true for Mary.

"Well, then, if that is truly what you want, then I will tell you everything." Sebastian replied earnestly, watching perplexedly as Mary's brows furrowed further together in disagreement.

"And why would it not be what I want?" Silence surrounded the pair, as all eyes in the room were divided between Sebastian and Mary. He understood very quickly his apparent ill-advised choice of words, again, and was rapidly formulating how to correct his mishap. His colleagues offered no assistance, so Bash kept his eyes on his plate, praying the appropriate reply would come to him. Dinner had begun to adjourn, and by the scowls on Luke and Claude's faces, it would be best if he remained silent.

When he first met Mary in the meadow that morning, his whole outlook on life changed. The immediate draw he felt towards her was hard for Sebastian to grasp. He had never felt that strong of an emotion in a long time, and never towards a woman. And now, after his present debacle, he worried her view of him would completely change. He had to make the situation right with Mary, for he should have never presumed she was like any other woman. She had clouded his thoughts, and made his vision foggy. He shook his head as chairs scraped imposingly against the wooden floors. He raised his eyes briefly as she retreated, and her eyes were on him, not as much in anger as in curiosity. But her lips pursed, and her chin raised a bit higher as she moved towards the hall, away from him.

Sebastian had instinctively stood as Mary and her ladies removed themselves from the modest dining hall. As the fog that clutched his mind cleared, he realized he alone was left at the table, staring stupidly at the opposite wall. He vividly remembered the questioning glare Mary leveled on him. It was a significantly different gaze then he had seen from her earlier in the day. But he also remembered the way she pursed her lips, as if her thoughts towards him confused her. Even pouted in anger, those lips had transfixed him.

"Bash, are you coming?" Luke asked from the doorway.

"Oh, yes, quite sorry for the delay." Sebastian mumbled, knocking over his chair in clumsiness. He tugged on his doublet, having changed from his filthy riding clothes earlier, in an attempt to right both himself and his thoughts. Eventually, he fell easily into step behind Luke, following his swagger until he turned into what appeared to be a library. Claude already sat in a chair by the fire. Though it was summer, evenings in the mountains leaned towards the chilly side, and Sebastian was thankful for a bit of heat.

"What happened today, General?" Claude broke the silence, using Bash's military nick-name, standing to hand a tankard of ale to him.

"Nothing." Bash replied quickly, turning away from his two men and eying the ale.

"Oh come now, Bash." Luke interjected. "It was love at first sight." He chuckled, and Claude joined in the laughter. Bash was extremely thankful for the fire, the warmth hiding the blush on his cheeks. He did not find their banter humorous, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not drench his friends in ale.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, I misspoke, that is all." Bash spit out harshly, wishing for a few minutes alone to clear his head.

"Not just dinner, Bash, but this morning when we first met Lady Mary. It was as if you and her were the only ones in the meadow." Luke replied, half teasingly, half seriously.

Bash could not argue with him, and refused to turn and face the men. Her beauty had swept him away, and her grace was humbling. And then that night, at dinner, her fervent attitude towards understanding her future country amazed him.

"We are here to safely escort Lady Mary and her ladies back to the Chateau, let us not forget our task." His voice commanded attention, his time leading Francis' armies behind his brother giving him that ability.

"Yes, but you cannot forget why." Claude urged quietly from his chair, having seated himself again.

"She is to be our Queen, and my brother's wife, yes I remember." Bash sighed, tiring quickly of the path of the conversation.

"No, she is to be the wife of our King." Luke added, stressing the word 'King'. Bash knew what he meant was that relatives were sometimes forgotten in the world of politics. If his actions or words reflected poorly on France, it would not matter if he was the King's brother or not.

"Come, Luke, let us let him be for a while. We will see you in the morning, Sebastian." Claude uttered sleepily, pulling Luke reluctantly along with him.

Sebastian nodded, turning back towards the empty chairs in front of the fire. He sat rather ungentlemanly, plopping himself down and throwing his head back in defeat. 'Lord, what have I gotten myself in to now.' He whispered to the empty library. 'Maybe you can help?' Sebastian asked to his tankard of ale, still untouched.

"Drinking your sorrows away usually only makes the situation worse." The light, airy, female voice replied, and Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. Turning, Mary appeared as if out of nowhere in the library, her figure dancing in and out of the shadows created by the firelight.

"Oh forgive me, Lady Mary, I would not intrude on your personal time." Bash spluttered, realizing how strange and awkward his words sounded. Technically, she had interrupted his time in the library, not the other way around.

"It is I who intruded on you, and apparently deep in thought." Mary quirked on eyebrow at him, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Actually, Duke, I meant to intrude. I wanted to apologize for the severity of my words at dinner. I have a bad habit of letting my words get away from me."

"Oh no, my Lady, it should be me apologizing. I should never have presumed to know what you do and do not want to be told." Sebastian rose from his chair as he spoke, recovering his senses enough to remember proper etiquette.

"Well," Mary laughed, "it seems we are both at fault then. Shall we start again? Hello, I am Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland." Mary held out her hand again, just as she did that morning. Sebastian felt the flutter inside him once more.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary Stuart. I am Sebastian, Duke of Poitiers." Sebastian accepted her hand, feeling the same electrifying warmth as he did that morning. The expression on Mary's face changed, her eyes gazing at their joined hands. She pulled her hand away slowly, holding her hand as if it hurt. She had a similar reaction that morning, gasping as their hands touched.

"I understand now my defensiveness at dinner. You unnerve me so. Why is that?" Mary mumbled softly, as if to herself. Sebastian was not sure she meant him to hear.

"If it makes you feel better, I feel the same way." Bash replied quietly himself, not wanting to add he did not mind the way she made him feel. It was a delicious warmth that spread through him, but not because of the ale, or the fireplace behind him.

"Maybe it will ease my mind if I got to know you?" Mary glanced up at him then, her eyes seeking his openly.

"You are in luck, my Lady, for part of my task is to catch you up to speed on things happening around the countryside, and help you decide how best to rebuild our court." Smiling, Bash enjoyed the small smile that graced her face as well.

"Wonderful! I knew we should be great friends." Mary reached out for his hand again, holding it tightly as she smiled widely. He much preferred her beautiful smile to the scorn he witnessed a short while earlier.

"Well then, if we are to be friends, please call me Sebastian, or even Bash. I prefer those over my pretentious title."

"Of course, Bash. Now shall we talk more in the morning? I do not wish to intrude on your time any longer."

"Most assuredly." He replied, still holding her hand. Lifting her hand, he placed a simple kiss on her knuckles, nothing more than befit his future Queen. "And it is not an intrusion, I promise." He watched as she blushed slightly, curtseying before she turned and glided out of the library.

This would be his toughest task yet. He watched after her retreating figure long after she left. Those feelings he felt that morning were still there, under the surface, simmering slowly. His heart had ached when he thought he had displeased her earlier, but now, knowing he had caused her emotions to go crazy, relieved him. 'Unnerved' was the word she used. She unnerved him too. ' _I have watched men die. I have killed men with my bare hands. And this one woman makes me speechless,'_ he thought, collapsing back against his earlier abandoned chair, and downing his ale in one gulp.

* * *

Over the first week after they arrived in Andorra La Vella, he spent many of his waking hours in discussion with Mary and several of her ladies. He learned Lola was the one with the dark, wavy hair. She joined most every conversation, and often times offered valuable input. The other lady was a tiny wisp of a thing with blonde hair so light she might have been a nymph from one of the childhood stories his mother would tell him. Her name was Aylee, and though she never said much, Sebastian could see her keen eyes missed nothing of her surroundings.

Absent from their daily talked were Mary's other two ladies, another blonde named Greer, and a darker-haired sprite named Kenna. Bash's two men had found themselves preoccupied most days with these two ladies, and neither minded at all.

"I think your Marquis and Viscount have their hands full, Bash." Mary chuckled, pointing towards Claude and Luke who were escorting Greer and Kenna around the gardens.

"I would be more worried about Greer and Kenna. With these years of fighting and war, most of our men have not seen a true noble woman in some time." Bash replied with a smirk. Mockingly, Mary gasped, flinging a hand towards her chest in indignation.

"Should I be concerned, then, about my virtue? Are you as unravished of attention as the Viscount and Marquis?" Mary inquired, a bit of coyness to her words.

"By no means, my Lady." Bash grinned, eying Mary carefully as she smiled, watching how her face lit up with mirth. He knew she would catch him staring, but he was too enamored to turn away. But then, he uttered more words without clearly thinking of their implications. "But I will let you know when I change my mind." With a wink, Bash turned on his heel and walked away.

He had almost counted to a hundred when he finally deciphered hurried footsteps approaching from behind. The gravel walked crunched noisily with Mary's restless footsteps.

"You speak your mind very freely, Sebastian." Mary tittered, walking quickly to catch up with Bash, the skirts of her gown rustling around her.

"Not one of my better traits, I am afraid. But I do not do it often." Sebastian cheekily responded.

"I can deduce, then, from the tone and content of this conversation that the court lacks a woman's touch." Mary paused, assessing Bash's face. "Or women at all."

"You would be correct, on both accounts. Many of the nobleman sent their families outside of France, while they stayed behind with my father, and subsequently Francis. Some men left with their families, yes, but only a few." Silence penetrated the air around them, as they slowed to a more leisurely pace through the garden.

"Where did they go?" Mary whispered.

"Well, many went to Spain, and Portugal. A few headed towards Italy, at the late Queen's bidding. A couple brave souls traveled to England. Mostly, they moved anywhere but east and the Holy Roman Empire."

"Should we summon them back to France?" Mary stated simply, eying Sebastian honestly, having forgotten the awkwardness of Sebastian's earlier words.

"That will be for you and Francis to decide, but yes, I think it is best. They were the original members of court, and I think it behoove us to try and encourage them to come back to France." Inwardly, Sebastian hoped his sentiments were those of Mary as well. He wanted his words to please her, considering he had said several words that had not.

"No, I think that is best. I will give it continued thought, though." Mary contemplated, not wanting to commit her mind to one single action just yet. The future of France depended on her, and it was crucial for her to make the most informed decision possible. "Will Francis really entertain my opinions? Most Kings do not listen to their wives."

"Francis is not like other Kings. When he entrusted me to escort you back to court, his instructions were that I prepare as best I could for court, and life at the Chateau, on the understanding that your opinions held great weight."

Mary nodded, her face passive. "Is he much like you?" She asked faintly.

Sebastian was surprised by the question. No one really cared that they shared a father, or if their were any other similarities between him and his brother.

"No one has asked me that before." Sebastian realized, wondering what Mary was thinking. "I think in most ways we are similar. Some might say I am more ruled by my emotions, whereas Francis thinks with his head, naturally a ruler. But, yes, we are alike in some ways. He is my brother after all."

"He is?" Mary questioned, eyes widening at the revelation. Sebastian was surprised, having assumed she knew.

"I am sorry. I thought you knew of our relationship. Yes, he is my half-brother."

"But you are the eldest?" Mary asked, stopping to turn and speak to Sebastian face-to-face. He nodded, an answer to her question. "Good. He would have looked up to his elder brother." Mary reached for his hand, holding it gently for a moment. A small tremor went through Sebastian at their touch, not following Mary's train of thought, but pleased that she was obviously pleased. "That is very good." She paused, her eyes holding his for a moment. "If he is anything like you then I shall manage." There was honesty and loyalty in her voice, and Sebastian could not help but smile.

"But you have only known me a week, my Lady. Who knows what dastardly deeds I have up my sleeve?" He winked at her, the second time that day and Mary laughed heartily in response.

"True, but do you know what I have up my sleeves?" Mary tried to wink back, blinking rapidly instead. Both laughed.

"No, but I think I am up to the challenge." Sebastian replied mischievously, knowing their conversation was teetering on the edge of appropriateness.

"Good. I hope you are."

_So am I,_ Sebastian thought, watching her figure sway as she started to walk ahead of him. _So am I._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I am excited to lead you through this AU version of Reign.
> 
> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!

The second week passed by much as the first had. Mary asked a number of questions of Sebastian regarding the state of France, her courtiers, and the nature of reconstructing the French court. She asked everything, except questions about Francis. She hoped Bash would not catch on, but she did not want to taint her time with him with thoughts of his brother. It was a treaty, one she would obey without question. Why would she? She was Queen of Scotland, and eventually would be Queen of France. Soon. It was her duty.

But as she watched the man in front of her, how his lips moved while he spoke, the occasional upward tilt in the corner that indicated his happiness, or how his brow furrowed when she asked a question, listening intently to every word she spoke, seeds of doubt grew when her mind. She was always taught about her duty. Her duty to her country, her duty to her mother and late father, but what of her duty to _Mary_?

Her mother once wrote to her that love was a blessing, rarely given, but cherished when there. Her mother had loved her father, in her own right, but was it love because of duty, or love of the man? When she had truly known of her engagement to Francis, she assumed, unless he was not kind to her, that love would grow, in time. But to find love first?

Love? No, Mary never assumed she would find someone she loved. She did not want to claim she loved Sebastian even, for she had only known him two weeks, but yet, deep within her, she felt as if she had known him for centuries. It was a curious feeling, to be drawn to another person in such a fashion. It frightened her, to want to walk where he walked, to need to hold his hand in her own, and to wonder what his lips might feel like on hers?

It must have been witchcraft, Mary thought mockingly, for such a sudden attraction, sudden wanting, could not be natural. She was cursed, that must be it.

"Mary, you are going to worry a hole in your shawl." Lola commented jokingly. Mary's fingers had mindlessly picked a thread loose on her shawl without thought. If she pulled the thread, her shawl would unravel, much like the threads of her mind. If she let Sebastian get a hold of one of those threads, all might be lost of her senses.

"Silly me, I let my mind wander." Mary replied with a sad smile.

"What bothers you, Mary? Do you not want to meet Francis? Are you frightened?" Lola had been folding the freshly cleaned linens, and gently set them aside to join her Queen by the window.

"Yes, of course I want to meet him. It is just ..." Mary hesitated, seeing two figures approach the estate from the gardens. Sebastian's form appeared first, followed costly by one of his men. "Overwhelming." She finished, a bit lamely.

Lola's eyes traced the path of Mary's sight, identifying the men before they entered the castle. She had watched the interaction between her Queen and the Duke of Poitiers, and what she saw concerned her. There was an attraction there, to be sure, especially from the Duke. Lola was not surprised, for the few excursions the Lord and Lady Carme allowed them in to the town, the eyes of men always followed Mary. But to see the attraction reciprocated, that was a different beast all together.

"It is not Francis that concerns you, but his brother, is it not?" Mary's head swiveled quickly towards Lola, their eyes exchanging many words that would be left unspoken. Mary had not wanted to acknowledge her feelings towards Sebastian to herself, let alone to Lola. But how could she acknowledge feelings if she did not understand them herself?

"Nothing concerns me, Lola, I am fine." The knowing look across Lola's face told Mary she knew otherwise, so Mary thought it best to change the subject. "Shall we go see how our visitors are this afternoon?"

Lola nodded, lacing her arm through Mary's as they headed down the hall. In Lola's mind, the quicker they could get to the French Court and have Mary wed to Francis, the better for all parties.

* * *

Mary's fingers idly picked at the blades of grass beneath them, the palm of her hand tickling the tips of the blades. They sat on a woven blanket, the warmth of the sun reflecting off the dark shades of the fabric. The large oak provided some shade and relief from the heat of the afternoon, as did the gentle breeze that tossed Mary's hair across her shoulders.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Mary questioned, her voice breaking softly on the wind. Sebastian had been admiring the way her curls floated against the breeze, so though the sound of her voice broke the silence, he did not show surprise.

"Of course Mary, you may ask me anything. If it is in my power, I will answer." The earnestness in his voice surprised even Bash, but his words were true. If Mary asked, he would answer.

"Am I fit to be Queen?" The words were soft, and covered in worry. Shifting his eyes upwards, he saw the hunger for acceptance in Mary's eyes. She wanted to be a good Queen.

"I may be biased, Your Grace, but you are more than France could have hoped for." He wanted to amend his statement, add that she was more than _he_ could have hoped for, but the words stuck in his throat. They were words for a different time and place, and one that would most likely never exist. "Though I have only known you two weeks, I have come to see your kindness, thoughtfulness, beauty, grace, and uncanny intelligence. You do not need France. France _needs_ you."

There was a tear in Mary's eye that she hastily wiped away. The words were said with such confidence and strength that it was hard to doubt them.

"You are just being nice, Bash." Mary chuckled through her blurred vision, as the tears were getting harder to hold back. She felt a hand curl around her own. Raising her eyes, and blinking away the moisture, Mary saw Sebastian leaning towards her, his right hand wrapped around her left. He shifted, his other hand reaching for her right.

Her hand had been resting in her lap, and she could feel the pressure of his arms against her thigh. His head ducked towards her, and for a minute she thought he might kiss her. For Mary, the scary thought was she would not have stopped him.

He ducked his head, his eyes searching for hers as she had lowered her head in embarrassment.

"Mary, you must understand. I do not say these things to flatter you, I say them because I mean them." He squeezed her hands gently, trying to offer some physical comfort as well as spoken. "France, and Francis, are lucky to have you." He added softly, releasing her hands and removing himself to an appropriate distance, seeing as their other companions were within shouting distance.

"Thank you, Sebastian. You are a true friend, and I am glad to have you here to guide me." Wiping away the last tear that threatened to streak her cheeks, Mary hastily turned her thoughts away from Sebastian, the gallant man in front of her, to Sebastian, Duke of Poitiers and the King's General. "Tell me, what do you believe will be my biggest challenge returning to the French court?"

"Where should I begin?" He chuckled, finally releasing the warmth of her hand. "Our King wants to rebuild the might and power of France. Visually, that comes in several pieces. For me, that comes in the form of reestablishing the French military. We have been drained of money and manpower."

"So that is your job?" Mary questioned.

"Part of it, yes, along with training the new soldiers, and rebuilding our defenses. Right before I came here, I was placing the final touches on revitalizing the Chateau de Blois, what will be your new home. It is not yet complete, by any means, but I hope it will not disappoint." Mary smiled encouragingly.

"If your hand is in it, I am sure it will not." Mary saw the blush creep up his cheeks are her complement, her stomach fluttering giddily. "So while you and Francis are establishing the French might, I am redefining the French life?"

"You are quite perceptive, Mary. Yes, I mentioned to you in previous conversations the need to pull the court back together, encourage them to return home, and I think a splendid woman, such as yourself, will be able to accomplish that task."

"What about my Scottish brethren? What you have said sounds wonderful, but I am not only to be a French queen. I am the Queen of Scotland."

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. Marrying Francis would make her Queen of France, and him King Consort of Scotland. With so much emphasis placed on the rebuilding of France, would Scotland get mixed in the shuffle?

"My dearest Mary, that is where your keen insight and intelligence will guide Francis. He has been focused on what is best for France, as have we all for so many years, that it will be your advisement that will allow him to see outside his own world. You can better France, and Francis, _by_ being a ally, and in turn strengthen Scotland's ties to mainland Europe, and create a powerful monarchy." Bash felt winded after the words, hoping his meaning came through clear. He never wanted Mary to doubt her opinion would be heard, or her ideas not dismissed. He most definitely did not want her power overlooked.

"You have a lot of faith in someone you just met, someone who has not seen the complete horrors of the countryside yet."

"I thought I made myself clear earlier. There is no deception in you. I trust you." He sighed, knowing Mary was not being obstinate, such unsure of herself. "Just know this, Your Grace, my trust, and my faith, are not easily bestowed."

"Nor are mine, Duke." She hesitated, watching for subtle changes in the features of his face. "And I trust you."

And she watched him smile.

* * *

They sat around the library fire that evening, Mary, Lola and Aylee, Greer, Sebastian and Claude. Absent from the party were Kenna and Luke, much to Mary's chagrin. The pair had become increasingly comfortable together, and though Mary did not mind, she wanted to protect her ladies image.

"I must say, Duke, you were honest about the safety of my ladies reputations." Mary spoke cheekily, speaking of his title while in the company of her ladies.

"Yes, I was. A ladies reputation is not to be trifled with." Sebastian replied, not meeting Mary's gaze. Claude cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes meeting Greer's on occasion. Mary watched the exchange with interest, grinning to herself. "Claude, might you go check on our companion?" Sebastian spoke lightly, a hint of humor in his voice.

"No thank you, General. I think I will retire for the night." He stood, bowing to Mary, and acknowledging the others. His eyes, once again, lingered on Greer. "Ladies."

As the door closed behind him, Mary and her ladies genuinely laughed. The tension had been palpable with Claude in the room, knowing very well where, and with whom, his companion was at this late hour.

"Well that was awkward." Greer joked, easing herself up from her spot by the fire. "I think I, too, shall retire for the night, but to my own room." The ladies laughed again, bidding goodnight to one another.

"Let me speak candidly." Sebastian broke the jovial atmosphere, all eyes turning to him. "I was honest when I said to please be careful regarding the soldiers. These men are gentleman, to be sure, but remember when we arrive back at the Chateau, war can make criminals out of the best of men."

"If Kenna were here, I think she would thank you for dampening our spirits." Lola replied sadly.

"No, Sebastian is right. This is not a warning to be afraid, but more an acknowledgement of the new situation we will be entering, am I right?" Her eyes widened at him, hoping she had not misunderstood his words.

"Mary is right, I am sorry for scaring you, that was not my intention." He smirked, Aylee and Lola joining in. "Maybe I should prepare you for the onslaught of attention you will receive back at court."

"Now that sounds much more enticing." Mary replied, setting down her needlework. "Let us all get some rest. There is still much to be done before our departure."

Greer had already left, Lola and Aylee close behind. Mary bid her goodnight to Sebastian, walking in front of him towards the door. His hand shot out, grabbing hers. He stayed seated, his eyes on the fire as it danced wickedly amongst the logs, but his thumb moved gently against her palm.

Mary froze, the movement of his hand was so intimate, and yet so friendly. And yet something so wanted. She stood in silence, refusing to glance at him. That thread she had unconsciously picked earlier would unravel if her eyes met his. She knew he did the same, his gaze fixed determinedly on the fire, afraid of what would happen if he glanced her direction.

Whether it was the warmth of the fire, or the warmth of their connected hands, Mary was unsure, but she suddenly felt desperately uncomfortable in her layers of fabric. Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably, her body almost shivering from the sensation.

It was unbearable, she thought, the pull towards this man. She wondered if he felt the same. A quick glance at his rigid body posture, the way his other hand fisted against the chair, answered her question. He was fighting the same inner battle, and the same strange sensation they had first picked up on when the met in the meadow two weeks ago.

A sudden chill came over Mary, and in fear she looked over her shoulder. He was gone, as if his entire presence had been a figment of her imagination. A ghost, truly conjured by witchcraft. But as she grasped her hand to her chest, she felt the sliver of warmth that remained from his hand, reminding her he was real.

Very real.

And so were her feelings towards him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I appreciate every single one of them. I am excited to lead you through this AU version of Reign.
> 
> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!

The skies opened up the following week, forcing everyone to keep inside from the torrential downpour. Sebastian felt like a caged bear. He had never spent more than a day inside in his life. He paced the hallways like a silent predator, though his prey, even to him, remained elusive. He was restless, and frankly irritable. Several times, his feet took him straight to Mary's door, but he never knocked. To knock would be to admit he missed her company, desperately. Mary knew of his regard for her, even after such a short time, but he wanted to rein it in, prove to himself that he would not let his feelings run afoul of his decisions. And yet what had he told her over the previous few weeks? ' _Some might say I am more ruled by my emotions.'_

"Damn it all!" He cursed, stopping his ministrations long enough to sigh, his head falling back on his shoulders in defeat. His heart pounded solidly in his chest, echoing his previous footsteps. He wanted nothing more than to write away his feelings for her as purely lust, the sins of the flesh for a man deprived of a woman's company. But he laughed at the notion. She was attractive, yes, but it was the goodness of her soul that shone through to him; the beauty within, not just the outward beauty. That last day in the courtyard, before the storms had crested on the horizon, she had reached for his hand, nothing more than a friendly grasp.

And he had nearly lost his life.

He was horrified at the thoughts that skimmed his mind. He had wanted to kiss her, claim her there in the courtyard for all to see. Maybe it was lust clouding his judgement, but if it was lust, or want of companionship, he could have claimed any woman in the village pub, but all he could think about was her. He needed some physical way to release his pent up energy. Something to ease his physical torment.

He wanted to possess her mind, body and soul. He wanted to call her _his_ Mary. _She can never be yours,_ his mind yelled feverishly.

In the mental state he was in, Bash was glad Mary was otherwise preoccupied. He had only seen her at the evening dinners that week. The foul weather had encouraged Mary and her ladies to pack most of their belongings as they could, so as not to be rushing when the time came to leave. And for this, Bash was thankful. The last thing he would want to do is jeopardize what friendship they did share by letting his emotions overrule his common sense.

In frustration, his fist met the concrete stone wall, hoping the pain would relegate his thoughts and his feelings for Mary. Instead, it drew his attention back to the source of his frustration, and a strangled cry erupted from him.

"Control yourself, man," Bash admonished, looking down at his bruising knuckles. He knew his feelings, this passion that roared inside him, would not be quelled easily. He just hoped, and prayed, his actions would never dishonor his King, his country, or his Mary.

* * *

Resolute on his course of action, Sebastian headed back towards the dining hall, seeking an adjacent room where he might find his men. The pounding of his feet upon the stone kept his mind from drifting back to Mary. He felt the jolt of flesh on stone through his body, and he concentrated on that harsh, resonating vibration.

"General," Claude acknowledged as Bash entered the room. Sebastian stopped in his tracks. Greer was sitting at Claude's feet, thumbing through a rather large novel. Luke and Kenna were huddled closely near the fireplace, speaking in hushed tones. And watching his every move, Mary sat at the back table, a book held open between herself and Lola. Everyone stared awkwardly at Sebastian, for he had remained silent.

"I am sorry to interrupt, ladies. Your Grace." He bowed toward Mary, and she smiled genuinely in return. The room became suddenly more stifling. "Claude, Luke, let us find some space to spar, shall we? I fear I am going crazy inside thanks to this blasted weather." His men quickly assented, the idea sounding good to them as well.

"Excuse me?" Mary asked, rising from her chair.

"Yes, Your Grace?" Sebastian acknowledged with a sigh, hoping his exasperation would not show.

"Might my ladies and I watch?" Bash stared at Mary. The whole reason for his caged energy stood before him, and now she wanted to watch the only means he had presently of release.

Bash's shoulders dropped in defeat, a motion Mary may not have noticed, but his men did. He glanced at Luke, watching him try and hide the look of amusement from his face. "As You Grace wishes," He replied courteously, and he strode from the room, looking for a suitable place to spar.

They found an available room on the other end of the estate, a former dining area with large windows lining the walls, and a solid concrete floor. Mary and her ladies lined the edge of the room, between the imposing concrete pillars, eager to watch the men spar with each other.

Sebastian did not want an audience. He wanted to pound away his misery, and be given a brief respite from his overwhelming emotions. But he would not be allowed that luxury today. In anticipation, he shrugged off his doublet, his shirt hanging loose around his torso. Luke and Claude had done the same, their right hands resting lightly on the hilt of their swords.

"Fencing, General?" Luke asked, and Sebastian nodded.

"At least to start," Bash replied, and the men chuckled together.

Circling his men, Bash gripped the hilt of his sword, not removing it from his scabbard yet. The thought had crossed his mind to completely forgo fencing and just resort to boxing. But boxing was messy, sometimes bloody, and definitely not as skilled as fencing. Now that Mary would be watching, the need to impress her bubbled within him.

Eying Luke determinedly, Sebastian drew his sword, holding it in front of him, perpendicular to the ground. Luke saw the unspoken invitation, raising his sword in kind.

"En guard," began Bash, properly placing his feet.

"Prêt," continued Luke, inclining his head in Bash's direction.

"Allez," whispered Bash, making the first lunge.

The clang of steel reverberated around the somewhat empty room. Besides the clash of swords, the only sound in the room was the shuffling of Luke and Bash's feet as they moved across the tile. Sebastian was thankful he could not focus on Mary directly, or he would lose his train of thought. Instead, as he danced around the room, sparring with Luke, he would catch a momentary glimpse of her dark hair, or see her lips pout in concentration. It seemed contradictory to him, since Mary was the reason for their current exercise, that he should seek her approval in his actions. In the end, he had been dealt this hand, not of his own will, and through the haze of sweat and clash of steel, he would damned if he did not make the best of it.

* * *

"This is exhausting to watch," Greer stated in Mary's ear, one hand fanning herself in the process. Mary's eyes widened in response, afraid to acknowledge the warmth that also crept from her neck to her cheeks. "Mary, are you all right? You look a bit flushed," Greer added.

Her hand rested against her throat, clutching the fabric gently as she watched the men. Their shirts had fallen open in the front, which gave Mary and her ladies an adequate glimpse of the men's chests, covered in sweat and heaving with labored breaths.

Luke stopped suddenly, speaking to Bash briefly before setting his sword on the tiles. In one quick move, he shed his tunic.

"Thank you, General, that is much better," Luke stated, swiveling to face the ladies, winking in Kenna's direction. Kenna made a small motion with her hand, her fingers waving flirtatiously. Mary had no doubt this was not the first time Kenna had seen Luke without his tunic. Her thoughts subconsciously drifted to Sebastian, wondering how his physical stature compared to Luke's.

"Stop it, Mary," she whispered under her breath, admonishing herself for letting her thoughts drift towards the Duke. She saw Greer glance at her questioningly, but refused to meet what Mary knew would be a pointed look. Focusing back on the center of the room, Mary heard Bash mutter quietly, setting his own sword down as well, his tunic joining Luke's with a careless toss.

Mary struggled to find her breath, her eyes roaming his bared chest. She barely noticed they had picked up their swords, beginning again their athletic dance. It was not until the men had rotated, Sebastian's back to Mary that she noticed. She watched his muscles ripple with the motion of his arm. She noticed how the moisture gathered at his neckline, trickling down the length of his spine.

Mary swallowed the rising tide within her, fighting the sudden tugging attraction. It was an inner struggle, battling the opposing viewpoints. One side acknowledging her growing attachment to Sebastian, and the other side admonishing her for feeling anything towards a man she was not going to wed.

Lola moved to stand by her side, as if sensing Mary's discomfort. Though if anyone looked at Mary, they could easily read her feelings. Her eyes were focused on Sebastian, moving around the room as he did. She winced with every hard blow, smiled when he avoided a strike, and gasped silently when his feet would slide haphazardly on the floor.

When Luke finally conceded, his energy spent, Mary released a breath she did not know she held. It was a sigh, really, her muscles relaxing from the tense way she held her body. She thought it was over, that Sebastian would need a rest, but Claude approached him, removing his tunic and sword.

"Shall we wrestle, General?" Claude's voice echoed, yet untouched by physical activity. Bash nodded, setting his sword aside.

Claude was a head taller than Bash, with shoulders wider than most men Mary had seen. This appeared to be an uneven match in her eyes, but only time would tell. They circled each other, just as Bash and Luke had previously, but instead of lunging with swords, they lunged with their flesh.

Mary closed her eyes, waiting for their display to be over. The sight of fists pounding relentlessly into the other's body was overwhelming, and Mary's feet retreated her body from the sight, stopping when her back bumped the stone wall. The men's grunts and groans pulsed with the motions of their blows, and Mary felt slightly sickened by the sound.

The sudden thud forced Mary's eyes open. Bash laid prone on the stone floor, breathing but unconscious. Luke walked over to Claude, patting him on the back.

"General will have your neck for that when he wakes up," he said laughing, and both men reached for their discarded tunics. Greer and Kenna were at their sides, fawning over them as they walked towards the door.

"Wait," Mary cried, eyes drifting between her party and Bash,"we cannot just leave him."

"Oh, he will come around shortly, and I do not want to be around to see his temper when he does," joked Claude, draping an arm around Greer.

"You all may go ahead, but I will wait and make sure he is all right," replied Mary, moving to sit beside Sebastian, still very unconscious. Lola turned back toward Mary, but Mary shook her head. "You go ahead, Lola, I will be all right."

* * *

What seemed like an eternity was more like an hour when Sebastian finally stirred, pushing himself off the floor with a arduous groan. Mary had only left his side briefly to retrieve a basin of water, knowing his bloodied nose would need mending.

Sebastian sat up slowly, wincing as he did. Mary remained silent, watching his movements, ready to help him if he needed a steadying hand. He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, before his head slumped against his arm. He managed to stand, not looking back at Mary, and walked gingerly to the opposite side of the room, picking up a rag Mary had prepped and holding it to his nose. She watched as he rested his head against the cool stone wall, closing his eyes and sighing. Mary followed, standing by one of the columns that lined the edges of the room. It was hard to decipher if he wanted privacy, or if he wanted help, so Mary prayed it was the latter.

"That was quite a display," whispered Mary, appearing from the behind the column. Sebastian's muscles tensed, too preoccupied with stopping the blood flowing from his nose to notice her approach. He swiveled, clutching the cloth fiercely against his nose. Though unintentional, the hard blow Claude dealt left blood trailing down Sebastian's cheek, chin, and smeared across his chest. Mary's eyes followed the trail of blood, before rising to meet Bash's intense gaze.

"I never intended for you to see any of this," replied Bash harshly, removing the bloody rag to speak clearly. Though his nose had stopped bleeding, a bruise replaced it, coloring his cheekbone purple and blue.

"I am sorry if my presence distresses you," Mary bristled, raising her chin in defiance. The growing tension between the two was palpable, even if they were the only two to feel it.

"That is not what I meant, Mary," argued Bash, throwing the bloodied rag against the wall. "You could never distress me," he added softly, his eyes boring into hers. She sighed, reaching for another rag. Mary approached him, reaching a hand out to help wipe blood from his face. He abruptly stepped back, stiffening instinctively to her closeness. This is what he had been trying to avoid the past few days. His eyes scanned the room, noting unpleasantly that they were alone.

"Let me help you, Bash," Mary spoke sadly, seeing the rejection in his eyes. With his conscious warring between propriety and scandal, he gave in to his want to be close. He told himself it would only be for a moment, a fleeting memory for him to hold on to. He nodded, slumping his shoulders in resignation. Mary smiley genuinely in response, stepping forward and closing the space between them.

Her hand reached out, gently brushing the rag against his cheek. He felt the fabric caress his face, it's fibers passing along his chin and down his neck. The fabric trailed down his chest, the pressure from her hand warm against his skin, still flushed. She let the rag drop from her fingers, her palm pressing softly against his skin. His heart hammered embarrassingly, and he knew Mary must have felt it's pattering beneath her fingers. His hand reached up to grasp hers, holding it firmly against him.

"Why do you men feel the need to beat on each other so?" She asked, her voice laced with a husky quality that surprised her. She took a step forward, moving comfortably closer to Bash.

"Sometimes we just need to, Mary, it is difficult to explain," fumbled Bash, shrugging his shoulders. Her presence was intoxicating, especially in their current situation, and he was finding it difficult to think clearly.

"I do not like seeing you hurt." The words were whispered, but Sebastian heard them clearly. His mind was a jumbled mess, partly from Claude delivering such a harsh blow, and mostly from Mary standing in front of him, so close. He inwardly screamed in protest, all sense of propriety trying to banish itself as his body was winning the war over his common sense.

He did the only thing that seemed natural in that moment.

He kissed her.

Her lips were soft, sweet against his chapped ones. It was brief, the moment disappearing like a ghost. He pulled away slowly, memorizing the way she looked in that second, lips pouted, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. And then his sense of position gripped him, and he walked away. Too similar to the moment they shared in the library, vanishing in almost the blink of an eye.

He could not look back, knowing he had crossed a line he had promised himself he would not even approach. Though it hurt to walk away from her, he had to. Stopping in his tracks, he took a deep breath, clearing his lungs and his mind. He needed to find some excuse for them to start their journey back to court as soon as possible, before he ruined it all.

"Good Lord I am in trouble," he whispered to the darkened halls.

In response, all he could hear were the soft sobs from the room he had just fled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot. by Nancy McKenzie. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU!

From the moment his lips departed hers, Mary's heart never quit pounding. It reverberated through her chest, filling every pore of her being. It had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, the beautiful pressure of his mouth on hers. She could still feel the tough texture of his sun-loved skin against her lips, the roughened man beneath her fingertips. It had been frightening, the feelings coursing through her veins, and yet fantastic at the same time. And to think, the whole incident had occurred just three days prior.

Three long, miserable days.

It was rough to reconcile whether Sebastian had been disgusted by her actions, or upset with his own since he had abruptly left her in the large sparring room. She had not seen him since. Maybe it would be for the best, lest their emotional masks betray them to their companions. Or worse, they would betray themselves, and all they were working so hard to accomplish would crumble.

To deny her attraction to Bash was futile, and now that she had seen his feelings in return, her mind tumbled endlessly. Until less than a month ago, her future seemed crystal clear. She would wed the now King of France, uniting two countries and two monarchs. Now, she could not imagine looking forward, facing her new French court, without this daring General by her side.

"I must not do anything to dishonor my country," Mary whispered to an empty room.

_It would not be dishonorable to love him,_ a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind, _just to act on it._

Mary had never thought it would be easy to fall in love, though the stories of love at first sight were plentiful. But she always thought they were just that, stories. Fantasies for little girls. And yet here she sat, alone in her room. She was afraid to confront the man who would escort her to her future husband, afraid she would throw herself into his arms.

"Mary?" Lola asked, peeking around the edge of the open door, her face etched with worry.

"Yes, Lola, please come in," beckoned Mary, grateful for the distraction from her traitorous thoughts.

"I have been asked to inquire if it would be acceptable to start our journey to French court tomorrow, as opposed to next Saturday?" Mary sighed in relief. This would be perfect for both her mind and her emotions.

"Yes, Lola, I think that would be most acceptable. Most of our belongings have been packed already," smiled Mary, praying this was a good sign. The sooner she could be in the French court, in the presence of her husband-to-be, the better.

"I will let the Duke know then," Lola acknowledged, watching Mary closely. Of all Mary's ladies, except maybe Aylee on occasion, she was the most perceptive. "Mary, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Lola," Mary replied slowly, sensing her friends hesitation. Lola glanced cautiously around the room before approaching her Queen, reaching for Mary's hand as only she could do in such times.

"What is wrong? Everyone has asked after you these past few days," Lola squeezed Mary's hand in encouragement.

"Oh Lola," paused Mary, wondering to what extent she should, or could, confide in her friend. She wanted nothing more than to share her emotional burden with someone she trusted, not to burden them, but to seek guidance. But then, the more who knew about her indiscretion with Sebastian the greater chance of her future husband finding out. If Francis found out her reputation had been tainted, and most importantly by who, then it could jeopardize everything they have worked so hard to rebuild.

Mary found her courage, praying her words were the best choice, "Lola, what lies before us will shape not only our future, but the future of France. I do not think I am fit to be Queen."

Her friend's brow rose at the admission, a questioning gaze on her face. "Mary, why on earth would you ever think you are not capable. You were born to be Queen, you are a Queen already."

"Yes, but I am so far away from my country," whispered Mary sadly. She barely remembered her native Scotland, and there were days when she wished her fate would be different. That she could be sitting on her rightful throne, ruling her country, instead of waiting to be Queen of a country in shambles.

"Scotland will always be with you, Mary, and you have us to always remind you of home. And you have already made friends with the King's general. Has he not assuaged any of these concerns? He seems so attentive."

"Of course he has," Mary replied hastily. There was a hint of admiration as Lola mentioned Sebastian that Mary did not like, but Mary kept her thoughts to herself.

"Of that I am glad," Lola smiled overzealously, fidgeting nervously with her fingers at the same time. Mary was unsure of this new attitude towards the Duke, but continued to let it be. "Will you be joining us downstairs for dinner?"

"No, thank you, I am rather tired and would like to rest."Lola curtseyed in acknowledgement, watching Mary closely as she left her chambers.

Mary settled back on her lounge chair, willing her thoughts of Lola's sudden possible interest in Bash, and her own situation in general, to slow.

She prayed for a moment's peace, and rest.

* * *

But rest never came.

It was as if a tempest roared endlessly within Mary. The raging tide of emotions carried her on an endless flow of waves. In less than a month, her world had gone from comfortably predictable to an infinite unknown. All her short life, she had known who she was, and what her duties to Scotland, and possibly France, would be. The Lord and Lady Carme had been open and honest with her, and she loved them for it.

It had been about two months ago when the Lord Carme had summoned Mary to his library. The practice was not unusual, but Mary had still sensed a change in the air. And then when the Lord Carme had bowed, a custom she had made him forego years ago, she knew for sure.

Her time had come.

Time to step into her duties. Her duty to be the next Queen of France, and marry the King.

_Marry the King._

A man she did not know, though his deeds and manners were unprecedented. When Lord Carme handed her the note, written in the King's own hand, she sighed.

Mary had not known if you could tell much of the man by the way he wrote and expressed himself on paper. The flowing script intrigued her, and seeing her name written by the man she would call 'husband' sent a small flutter through her heart. She trembled, scared of the future that the small piece of paper embodied. Her trembling had lessened as she read the graceful words, realizing her moment had truly come. She sensed greatness in him, regality seeping from the penmanship.

"He is a good King, Your Grace," Lord Carme had spoken, understanding Mary's momentary unease, "and you will be a great Queen."

"You have raised me well, and I thank you for it," Mary had replied in earnest, knowing the time she spent in safety with the Carme's was more than she and her ladies could have imagined. They had been gracious hosts, especially as Mary had been a young girl when she first arrived, but she was also grateful to call them friend. She had reached for the Lord Carme's hand, holding it tightly in both thanks and honor.

Mary held her right hand, remembering the feeling of comfort that simple handshake with Lord Carme had given her, assurance that she was destined for greatness. And yet now she questioned everything.

She had sent Lola away quickly after dinner, having not rested earlier in the afternoon. She needed time to think before they left. Even though it was summer, the mountains chilly evening air gripped the castle and Mary tried to find comfort in the abundance of furs on her bed. But no luxuries afforded a Queen could keep her mind from drifting back two months, when her fate was sealed in summons from King Francis. And just as quickly, her mind floated back to the present, a very different face appearing in her thoughts. A very different vision of a man in her head. Even in her mind, she could still smell his musky sweat from fencing, sense his aloof presence, hiding just behind a door she could not open.

She would leave tomorrow. Leave the only safe home she had known in France. Leave the family she thought of as her own. Leave to become the Queen of France, wife of the King. She could not begin the journey without saying goodbye to him. She needed to apologize for her behavior, let him know she would not speak of it to the King.

The cold stone floor shocked Mary as her feet found their footing. She slid her feet into the lined slippers, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric. Her fingers brushed the blue silk robe draped on the end of her bed. It was not the most appropriate attire for her short journey, but she quickly dismissed the time and effort needed to lace a dress.

The moonlight from the windows cast shadows on the stone walls, but it gave Mary enough light to she her path. She would miss the stillness of her current home, with no guards in the halls and no torches lit. It gave her some semblance of a normal life, a common life.

But she was far from normal, and far from common.

A light shone from under the door at the end of the hall. She had only seen him enter it once, but remembered the location vividly. There were no voices from the other side, so Mary hoped he was truly alone. Her hand shook as she raised it, hoping her knocking would not wake other inhabitants.

She heard his footsteps approach the door, the large wooden edifice swinging open with a groan.

"Luke, please, I told you I did not …" the frustration in his voice was evident to Mary, and she gasped in response. He raised his head, his eyes widening at the realization that it was Mary at his door, and not Luke. He did not finish his sentence, instead he just stared at the woman in front of him, a sort of wonder shining from his eyes.

"Mary," he breathed, not a question in his tone, but more of an unmeasured longing. They way her name had fallen from his lips sent shivers through Mary.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Bash's fingers gently wrapped around her forearm and pulled her into his room. Her eyes watched him as he slowly closed the heavy door, the latch barely making a sound as it shut. Time seemed to slow down as the Duke swiveled to face Mary.

"Why are you here?" He whispered, his face remaining stoic as he spoke. Mary had been so determined to visit Bash, but now that she was here the words left her. "Mary, you really should not be here."

"I have missed you," the words escaped her lips before Mary realized her confession. She watched him close his eyes and sigh, "I thought you were unhappy with me. I did not want to start out our journey tomorrow without talking to you. There is much that needs to be resolved," Mary continued softly.

His head tilted questioningly at the young woman in front of him. He had never met someone so honest and truthful in his life. It was refreshing to just be in her presence. It was also intoxicating. Sebastian felt the pull towards her just as he did a few days previously. The need to wrap his arms around her and pull her close fought to possess him, and he felt his feet moving forward involuntarily. The skin of her cheek caressed the palm of his hand, but he did not even realize he had reached for her.

"I am sorry I have avoided you. I was afraid I had displeased you. I have, have I not?" She whispered, her mind chastising herself for the direction the conversation was heading.

"Of course not," he sighed, "if I have any displeasure, it is at myself. I took advantage of you, and for that I hope you will forgive me. Your good opinion means more to me than most."

"There is nothing to forgive, and no advantage was taken, I assure you," Mary responded with a bit more force than she intended, her emotional struggle winning over her choice of words, "and my opinion of you remains unchanged…"

"But this cannot continue," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek.

"I realize that," Mary interrupted, her voice trembling, "but I cannot forget it either. "

"Oh Mary," Bash hummed, closing the distance between. He leaned his forehead against hers, enjoying being in her presence again. He realized putting the distance between them the past few days was not the answer. Closing his eyes, Bash struggled to find his breath, "there are many things I want to say to you, but now is not the time. Just know, when we return to court, you will always have a loyal servant in me," he paused, opening his eyes, "and there I go again, bringing tears to your lovely face."

"It is not fair, Bash. I have been raised all my life to be both Queen and wife, and I have never questioned my duty. Never," she cried in earnest, the tears feeling hot against her already flushed cheeks, "and then I met you, and I have questioned everything since. Promise me I will never lose your friendship and guidance?"

Sebastian had promised himself three days ago that he would never kiss Mary again, not for lack of wanting to, but for sake of his own sanity, and both their lives. But as he pulled her into his arms, whispering gently in her ear, he decided that was one promise he needed to break.

It did not matter that her lips were salty, stained from her tears. It did not matter that in a few hours, they were leaving for the French court. It did not matter that she was destined to marry his brother. Nothing mattered at all, except the two of them in that moment.

It was not overly passionate, or horribly chaste, but the kiss was full of longing, and an unspoken promise. They would stand by each other in all things, and be each other's confidants. But they knew the line would have to be drawn there.

It was over too soon, their brief respite from the real world, and Mary nearly gasped at the loss of contact as he broke their kiss. Silently, she wondered what she might have done wrong to be denied this man, knowing a love and not being able to return it.

"Best you get some rest, Your Grace," said Bash, reverting back to a more formal tone, "we have an early morning and a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

Mary sighed, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill again. "You too, Bash. And please know you are very dear to me, and will always be. I could not imagine a better man, or friend, guiding me along this journey."

"I will be your guide as long as you need me," Bash stated genuinely, bowing slightly. Mary chuckled through her tears, wishing him a good night.

He watched her as she walked down the corridor. Just like the feeling that washed over him the first day he met her in the meadow, he knew he was destined to be by her side, in whatever way he could. He had a week to settle his emotions, lest Francis know the minute he saw him. A week to learn indifference without it seeming rude.

She was long absent from the corridor when he finally shut the door, laying himself down on the bed before their journey started. Much like the empty corridor, he would walk down the way alone, his only company being the love he held in his heart.

But never in his hand. And with that, he got no rest.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot. by Nancy McKenzie. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU!

Mary had finally fallen asleep with tears still gracing her face. She tossed and turned most of the night, much like how a ship is tossed about on the ocean waves. Mary's ocean was her emotions, rocking her violently side to side. And just as a sailor might find himself on a sea, Mary awoke the following morning with a knot in her stomach, a quiet uneasiness that racked her body. She ate little at breakfast, despite the incessant prodding of her ladies.

"Mary, we have a long journey ahead of us today, you need to eat something before we leave," urged Aylee, her sweet tone earning a smile from Mary, "at least let me get you some toast?"

Mary acquiesced, thanking Aylee for being considerate. She glanced towards her window, dawn's early morning rays casting shades of pinks and purples on the wall. Before long, the rays would be golden, shining brightly, much like a crown. If she could survive another week, with just her ladies and her escorts, Mary would find herself safely ensconced within castle walls, walls which would be her new home. She could devote her time to getting to know Francis, the other nobles that may be at court, and just her way around. Her time could be spent thinking of anything but him. She must not let her thoughts dwell on him.

Aylee arrived quickly with the toast, and Mary concentrated on eating small bites, making sure her stomach stayed calm.

The following hour caused Mary and her ladies further tears. They had loved the Lord and Lady Carme as their own family, and would miss them terribly. Mary assured them that they would be invited to the royal wedding and coronation, and obviously back to French court once things became reestablished. They thanked her for her generosity, both hugging her. Though they were not biological family, the warmth exuded by their hugs felt like home, much like his arms had felt.

She admonished herself for thinking of him again so easily. She stole a glance, catching him gently stroking his horse, speaking softly to her as he did. Smiling at the sweet scene, she turned back, meeting Lola's gaze unexpectedly. Mary could sense worry and curiosity from her friend, both tinted with a bit of anger. Mary felt the spike of jealously again, just as she had the day before.

"Mary, it is time to leave," Greer stated, already seated but holding the door of the carriage open for her Queen.

Mary glanced back at the Lord and Lady Carme, arms around each other smiling sadly. Mary dared a wave, feeling assaulted by her emotions again. Lady Carme waved in response as Lord Carme graciously bowed. This was a turning point, Mary realized, where she went from being just Mary, to being a Queen.

She tilted her head in response, placing a foot on the first carriage step. Kenna, Aylee and Greer sat on one side, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Lola sat opposite them, patting the open seat beside her for Mary. Slowly, Mary lowered herself by Lola, the seat squeaking due to previous disuse. It was still a beautiful piece of work, velvet fabric covering the seat and brocade on the walls. Gold trimmed the windows and doors, dark lace covering the small window openings.

A startled squeal filled the carriage as it lurched forward, the ladies giggling together in response. The road was rough, and the carriage was dusty, plumes of dust and dirt puffed from the corners with every dip and crevice in the road. Lola coughed, waving a hand in front of her face to clear the air. Reaching for the window, Mary pulled the lace aside, gazing out on the countryside.

"You are going to let the dirt in, Mary," chastised Lola.

"This will be my country," Mary replied, "and I need to see it." There was no need to mention Mary could also see Bash up ahead of the carriage, his back sitting handsomely in his saddle atop an equally beautiful brown mare. She watched his head constantly move, always on the alert. She watched the wind rustle his hair, tossing the brown strands about carelessly. The movement gave him a wild, untamed quality that Mary found intriguing, as if the primal wildness of nature radiated from within him. She sighed, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks.

"See Kenna, even Mary is blushing listening to your exploits," Greer exclaimed, drawing Mary's attention back to her ladies. Mary hesitated, knowing she must have missed a crazy story, probably one that did not need repeating. Thankfully, her pause could come across as disapproval rather than a lack of paying attention. As she drew her focus back to her ladies, she knew this week would be entirely too long.

* * *

The first night was uneventful, as Mary spent most of the evening cloistered with her ladies. Sebastian, Luke and Claude had created a small camp, providing tent space for the women as they slept under the stars. The men took turns watching the surrounding trees and road, creating a sense of safety for the traveling party.

Mary laid on the hard ground, rocks and twigs causing her back discomfort even through the thick blanket layers. A burst of wind caught the tent flap, and Mary caught a brief glimpse of Bash's profile. The skin she had lovingly touched just days before glowed in the flickering shadows of the campfire. As if sensing her eyes upon him, Sebastian turned his head slowly. He held her gaze, neither blinking. It could have been hours they locked gazes, and though Mary was weary from travel, her eyes refused to budge. He turned his head back towards the expanse before them, and Mary finally let her lids drift close.

At least the first travel day was complete.

* * *

Mary continued to keep the curtains drawn back from the carriage window. She wanted to see the countryside, understand the plight of her new people. The mountains had kept her safe, for which she was thankful, but it also removed her from the horrors of war, and she did not know what to expect.

Sebastian had told her some, but words could not always convey the true context of carnage. She was not expecting to see human causalities, but she did not know what other horrors she might find.

Halfway into the second day, they came across the ruins of a church. The steeple lay crushed among the growing weeds, the mighty stone expanse of the ceiling crumbling in on itself. Outside the church was a small cemetery, a line of freshly mounded dirt the only indication of several new graves. From Mary's vantage point, she could see no other signs of life. The rest of the day was quiet. They passed nothing else of consequence, but Mary did note the vibrancy of the green grass, and the trees stripped of bark. She made note to ask Bash about those soon.

* * *

By the third day, Mary was ready to be finished traveling. She loved her ladies, but being cooped up with Kenna, whom she now knew more about than was proper, and Lola, whose critical eye watched Mary wherever she went, wherever she looked, was almost too much to bear.

They all sat around the campfire that night, conversing quietly and enjoying stretching their legs, all stiff from travel. Though used to riding horses for long periods of time, Sebastian still was sore from being jostled around. Bash scraped the remnants of his dinner into the fire, sidestepping the logs to move and sit by Mary. She smiled briefly up at him before returning her tired eyes to the fire.

"How do you find your journey so far, Your Grace?" Sebastian asked, breaking the several day silence between them. Mary rolled her eyes at the use of her title, but chuckled nonetheless.

"I expected to see more devastation," Mary replied, but quickly adding, "but I am glad I have not."

"You will see more the closer we get to the Chateau, unfortunately," Bash replied sadly.

"Why is everything so green?" Asked Mary suddenly, the question nagging at her since the previous day.

"That happens with scorched earth," answered Bash, turning to face Mary, "the ash and fire act to enrich the soil, strangely enough, and ..."

"And the trees?" interrupted Mary, and Bash smiled, enjoying the sound of her voice once more. He had missed the way her words wrapped around him, a pure velvet that was as soft as it was sensuous.

"They will look at little worse for wear for a few years. The flames eat away at the bark, but as long as the tree survives, it will come back."

"That is good," sighed Mary, "but did they have to burn so much?" He could see the sadness in her face as she just began to understand the full trauma of what the country had been through. It had been damaged from the ground up.

"That is a product of a war of attrition. The emperor wanted to demoralize us in order to conquer us," he paused, watching Mary closely, "but of course his attempts failed. If anything, it worked against him."

"How so?" pondered Mary, curious as to how men view and relate to war.

"For many of us, me included, the anger and hatred I felt at what was happening to France gave me the will to fight harder than I ever could have," Bash acknowledged, placing his hand on the log beside him. His fingers were within inches of where Mary rested her own, and she felt the pull to touch him once more. This time, it was Mary who moved first, placing her hand upon his.

"I hope to never see you in battle," whispered Mary, her fingers ghosting over his in the slightest of motions.

"All you need to know if I will fight for the things, and people, I love," breathed Bash, his words laced with meaning, "even if it means I sacrifice myself to do so." Mary felt the air constrict in her lungs at his words. He would fight for her, and he would die for her if needed. A sense of dread came over Mary, as if his words were a premonition. His departure in the library, the way he left her after their first kiss, and his words now, all haunted Mary, and she shivered.

"You must not say such things," Mary stuttered, her eyes moist.

"Which part?" Bash questioned, emotion laying heavy in his own voice.

"That you would die for those you love," she answered quickly. He broke the trance he felt from her gaze, standing suddenly.

"I need to go check on the horses," he paused, stepping away from her. He gazed back at Mary, knowing she continued to watch him. He tilted his head, an unanswered request on his features. Mary emitted a gasp of realization, and then gave a simple nod. She watched his retreating form. An evening fog had began to drift in, and she quickly lost his form in it. A quick glance around the campfire proved to Mary that her companions were occupied, including the ever watchful Lola. Without a sound, Mary left her spot on the log, fading into the mist just as Bash had.

She took a few tentative steps, the chilly mist obscuring her vision. She pulled her shawl tighter, the coolness of the moist air sending shivers down her arms. She was afraid to stray to far from the campfire, the voices of her ladies already faint behind her. The horses were close, she could tell by the smell, but the darkness still held her captive. Fear kept her arms around her chest, instead of reaching out into the thick cloud before her. Mentally, Mary laughed at herself. The one thing she had tried to do during their travels was keep her distance. She wanted to be courteous, but aloof. For that is how her conduct must be at court.

But here she found herself, walking blindly into the mist after a man she could not have. The stillness of the air enveloped Mary. She could feel the pound of her heart within her chest, its beats echoing in her ears. She thought the surrounding trees must feel it too, the steady thrumming. Mary started to doubt herself. She should not have followed Bash, it was too risky. Maybe it was the fog clouding her judgement, or the way the camp firelight danced against the surrounding mist that mesmerized Mary, but either way her feet did not move.

A ghostly breeze caressed Mary's cheek, and the wind called to her. She closed her eyes, the wind calling to her again. _Mary_ , it whispered seductively, and she felt it's sudden warmth. She heard her name again, the wind carrying a deep husky quality. Gasping, Mary swiveled. She found her body mere inches from Bash's. Though with their proximity she could see him clearly, they were mercifully obscured from other prying eyes.

Her mouth moved to speak, but no words were uttered. Instead, she felt a moan escape from her lips, rumbling from deep within her. In an instant, his arms had encircled her waist, pulling her roughly against him. His mouth had found hers, and his lips had been urgent. The moan she released surprised her, for she had barely registered he was in front of her before he had assaulted her senses completely. Her body moved of it's own accord, pushing back against him, her fingers struggling across his doublet to find his neck. She buried her fingers in the brown locks, the new unfamiliar warmth within her belly urging her to be bolder.

When her feet started moving, Mary knew not, but she soon felt the rough texture of tree bark against her back as his body pressed against hers. His lips left hers, trailing instead along her cheek and towards her ear, his teeth nipping teasingly against her sensitive flesh. Her knees began to buckle, and Mary gripped his shirt for stability. Her motion pulled him closer and he stumbled, his leg accidentally thrust between her knees. The sudden pressure and sensation awoke Mary from her haze of emotions. Her eyes popped open and she withdrew her hands.

Bash shook his head, his senses slowly returning to him. His eyes found Mary's, and he drank in her appearance. She was a goddess, bathed in the eerie dwindling camp firelight reflected from the fog. Her lips were swollen, and her breathing heavy. Her eyes rippled with passion, and Bash wanted nothing more than to swim in their depths. But he also saw fear in her features. He pulled away, amazed at his lack of self control, and somewhat ashamed of his behavior.

"Please forgive me, Mary, I do not know what has come over me," he whispered. He reached for her hands, holding them gently but not tightly. Mary was still frightened of what had just transpired, of how easily it was for her to lose herself in him. But she was also afraid of the passion within him. His presence, his touch, had made her weak. She now understood what only maids had whispered about when they thought she could not hear, the way love between a man and a woman could physically feel. And how much more was possible.

"This is folly," Mary broke the ensuing silence, "I cannot pretend to not care for you. I love you, Bash, and I want to be able to show you, but ..."

"I wish," began Bash, shaking his head and looking away, "it does not matter what I wish. We will be at the Chateau de Blois in two days. You will meet our King, your future husband. I will not let my wishes tear you away from your destiny."

"And what of my wishes?" She questioned, fighting back tears yet again. Her last few occasions alone with Sebastian had led to nothing but tears. It was as if she said a lifetime of goodbyes more than once. "What if I said we should run away, tonight, under cover of this fog. We could go anywhere we like." Sebastian smiled sadly.

"If only it were that simple. Mary, you are destined for greatness. I said it before, France needs you. Francis will need you," he hesitated, wanting to pull her into his arms again but refraining from doing so, "I need you too, as my Sovereign Queen. I take some comfort knowing I will be able to serve you in some capacity, even if from a distance."

"Life is cruel," sighed Mar

"Life is also full of temptation, threatening to pull us from our true path."

"You sound like the Cardinal I used to listen to as a child. Every mass he would drone on about temptation," Mary chuckled.

"Well, I do not know much about mass, Your Grace, but I do agree with the principle." Sebastian removed a hand, reaching into his doublet, fumbling. He withdrew his hand, something clutched tightly in his fist. "Please, take this," he handed Mary a large gold ring, emblazoned boldly with a roaring lion. She looked closely at Sebastian, trying to understand the meaning behind the sudden gift.

"Neither of us can give each other the true comfort we seek, so let this be a token of my love for you." He placed the ring in her palm, closing her fingers around the warm metal and encasing the outstretched hand with his own.

"I will cherish it always," She acknowledged, bending to his hand. He nodded, not wanting to speak further and possibly ruin the moment. He gestured back to the camp, and Mary followed the movement. When her eyes focused back, he had vanished in the fog.

She took comfort in the warm gold, keeping her fingers tightly around the ring. A sense of calm pervaded Mary, and for a moment, all was well.

* * *

The following day Mary smiled warmly with her ladies, chatting more than she had the entire trip. Lola and Aylee noticed the sudden change, but neither dared ask their Queen. Mary could not understand why that brief moment of unfulfilled passion with Bash had altered her outlook. The weight of his gold ring hung heavy against her side, and she knew it brought her strength. It was a promise that he would be there with her the whole way. She would face her destiny with a smile and a gracious bow. And he would be there to catch her if she fell.

* * *

This was the day. The would reach the Chateau by early evening, barring any travel complications. Mary was nervous, her stomach aflutter anxiously. The noon sun comfortably warmed the carriage, and Mary's anxiety seemed reflected back in the faces of her ladies.

"We are almost there," Mary stated, peering out the window.

"Your Grace?" The Duke appeared by Mary's carriage, an eager look upon his face. Mary smiled warmly, tilting her head in acknowledgement. Sebastian continued, "if you could spare a moment, there is something I would like to show you."

Sebastian called for the carriage to halt, and Mary slipped into the afternoon sunshine. She looked around, hoping to see what he was excited to show her.

"Your Grace will have to follow me," Sebastian replied, holding out his hand for Mary to join him on his horse.

"What? Join you on the horse? How far away is this surprise?" Thought trying to remain calm and aloof, Mary's heart was racing at the prospect of sharing the close space with Bash.

"It will only take a moment, I promise."

Mary nodded, stepping closer to his horse. Claude knelt, his hand cupped to receive Mary's foot. He hoisted her with easiness onto Sebastian's mount. She had nothing to hold onto, so she pressed back against Bash, the familiar warmth of his body easing her tension. Bash nudged his horse, and they trotted away from their companions.

Once some distance was between them and their traveling party, she felt his arm slip around her waist, pulling her even closer than she already was. Her stomach fluttered at the sensation, their bodies rocking gently against each other as the horse cantered. Her fingers twined with his against her waist. Memories of a few nights ago raced through Mary's mind. "Where are you taking me?" Mary whispered.

"Just over this hill," sighed Sebastian. The trees cleared as his mare topped the small earthy rise, and Mary gasped. "There," hushed Bash against her hair, "is your home."

Over a few smaller hills, and sitting within the base of a valley, there was a beautiful Chateau. The stone was gleaming in morning sun, and Sebastian felt his chest swell with pride at his handiwork. Even at their distance, Bash could see how much work had progressed since he had been away. He was very pleased, and eager to show the reconstruction to Mary.

"We will be there before nightfall," Sebastian answered the unspoken question. Mary turned to look at him, a thousand words left unsaid between them. Her fate was below her, wrapped in glittering stone. She took a deep breath, sighing.

"I am ready," acknowledged Mary, the words full of emotion and determination.

Bash nodded, turning the horse back toward the carriage. If she was ready, then he would be as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot by Nancy McKenzie. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU!

The setting sun painted the land in various shades of red, deepening in color as the light faded on the horizon. Standing out amongst the vibrant colors, the gray castle stood tall, casting a darkening shadow on the landscape. As their small traveling party inched closer to the Chateau, Mary could see the unfinished portions with more clarity. Still, it was a sight to behold, an architectural work of art. Her heart swelled with pride, knowing Sebastian had overseen much of the building, that the beauty she beheld was his plan, in conjunction with the King. This was his vision coming to fruition.

They were moving slower now, a change in elevation altering their pace. Mary kept the curtain drawn aside, wanting to experience the approach to her new home. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt a little nauseous, knowing her future was quickly becoming her present. Part of her was eager to get to the Chateau, wishing the envoy could hasten their trip. The other part of her wanted to freeze in the moment, partly afraid to meet her new husband and King, and partly not wanting to relinquish her hold on Sebastian. She knew she would have to give him up, their future depended on it. But when she closed her eyes, her mind stubbornly drifted back to that misty night, how the tree pressed harshly against her back, and he pressed so gently against her. His hands had been gentle on her face and his lips had been wild on hers. It had been a final acknowledgement of their fate.

And now that fate was upon them. Mary’s ladies chatted animatedly amongst themselves, nervous energy running rampant through the carriage. Though her eyes were on the horizon, Mary’s fingers fidgeted with the lace trimmings on her dress, a bad habit she had picked up from Kenna. The carriage abruptly jolted to a stop, startling the apprehensive group. Glancing over at her ladies, Mary noted their faces were shocked, but not overly concerned. She could hear the clattering of horse’s hooves, and diverted her attention back to the window. Sebastian came trotting up to their position, pulling the reins of another horse behind him.

“Why have we stopped? Is anything wrong,” Mary rushed, her anxiety coming through in her voice. Sebastian flashed a smile, the same smile that had won her over more than a month ago.

“Nothing is wrong, Your Grace. We are but a short distance from the Chateau,” Bash paused, looking back towards the other horse behind him. Mary felt the carriage rock slightly, and peered ahead enough to see Luke joining Claude at the head of the carriage.

Sebastian continued, “I thought you might to ride into your new home, be seen openly by your people and your King.”

There was a hint of suppressed sadness in his voice that made Mary’s heart ache. She smiled at him, acknowledging not only his thoughtfulness, but also how well he truly knew her. She wanted nothing more than to ride at the head of their party, hopefully with Sebastian close by, and be seen by those who were at court.

“Thank you, yes,” Mary accepted, moving towards the carriage door.

“But Mary, you are a mess!” scolded Lola, moving to intercept her Queen.

“My appearance should not matter. They know we have been traveling a great distance,” Mary replied curtly, her anger flaring temporarily at her friend. Lola scowled, but made no move to prevent her from leaving the carriage.

The door of the carriage swung open, and Sebastian extended his hand. Mary had missed him dismounting his horse to help her, but was grateful he had. His hand was gloved, encased in worn leather, but it was warm, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“It is only a half hour’s ride to the front gate,” he mentioned as he helped her mount Luke’s horse, his hands lightly gripping her waist, “and the King will be awaiting our arrival.”

“He will?” Mary stated, though it sounded more like a surprised question. It should not have surprised her, she realized, but it did nonetheless.

“We ran in to one of my scouts earlier, and I sent him ahead to alert the castle. We keep a few men on the outskirts of the Chateau for just this reason,” he explained honestly.

“Or in case there is something more nefarious?” questioned Mary, the fact the country had so recently been freed from the grips of war not lost to her. He laughed.

“That would be top priority, yes.”

She would miss this ease of conversation and openness between them. They would still be friends in a half hour, but this casualness would be gone, replaced by polite but friendly civility. He seemed to read her thoughts, as he sighed and moved towards his horse. He gracefully mounted, glancing Mary’s direction.

“Shall we, Your Grace?”

“Must we?” whispered Mary, her words heard only by Sebastian. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes full of love but his face pained. He nodded, his mouth unable to move to speak the affirmation.

“Then I am ready,” stated Mary with as much confidence as she could muster.

* * *

Their horses cantered easily toward the Chateau, and Mary could see the flags atop the completed turrets. They came to the outer gate, the wood and iron opening as they approached.

“Welcome home, General, Your Grace,” the men yelled from atop the gate. A massive stone wall stretched on in each direction from the gate, creating an atmosphere of fortification for the heart of the French government. Sebastian smiled and waved to the guards, and Mary could sense relief from him to be home.

Mary’s eyes followed the well-worn path to the front of her new home. A flight of concrete stairs led to the entrance, where a small gathering stood at attention. Front and center, Mary could see a young man. His light hair was easily visible, but as the sunlight slipped beneath the top of the trees, the last rays from the daylight glistened off the golden circlet nestled on his head. Immediately, Mary realized this was the King, her future husband, and she gasped.

“Yes, that is Francis,” Sebastian whispered, though there was no need for quiet at the moment. Mary nodded, her eyes not moving from the King.

He was splendid is his regal attire, even Bash had to admit that fact, his handsome face glowed from beneath his simple crown. Mary was awestruck, having to refrain from openly gawking like a peasant. Their horses continued down the path, and with every step, Mary’s heart beat faster and her breaths quickened. Suddenly, Mary felt very self-conscious of her own travel-worn attire, brushing her hands against the folds of her dress, and wondered if she should have listened to Lola, instead of scolding her.

“You are perfect as you are,” she heard Bash mutter from beside her, and she turned to meet his downcast eyes. Her smile was brief, but she tried to convey all the emotions swirling within her. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, and he gave sad smile.

They reached the foot of the stairs when Bash halted the horses. He dismounted, moving to help Mary do the same. He kept his eyes from her face, and his hands light on her body as he gracefully came to the ground. Offering his arm as customary, he felt Mary’s tight grip immediately. Her hand shook, and he wished nothing more than to hold her in his arms to calm her fears.

Ascending the stairs, Mary watched the King’s face come closer. They stopped on the front landing, and she felt his powerful gaze on her. As if he was miles away, she heard Sebastian speak.

“My King, may I humbly present her majesty, Mary, Queen of Scotland,” intoned Bash, his voice suddenly rich and regal on it’s own. Her eyes found Francis, and he bowed.

“Queen Mary, you are most welcome,” he paused, extending a hand to Mary, “we are most excited for your arrival. There will be a great feast in your honor this evening.”

Mary prayed that words would come easily for her, and they did, “I am honored, Your Grace. I am pleased to be here.”

Sebastian watched as she took his brother’s hand, and they turned toward the main entrance. He watched her walk away from him. And in that moment, he had never been more jealous of his brother in his life.

* * *

The fire crackled in the King’s sitting room. It was a warm night for summer, but Francis wanted the fire to continue. He sat quietly, meditating on the arrival of Mary, his soon to be wife and Queen. She was a beauty, to be sure, and her voice was pleasant to his ear. He had been surprised when the scout arrived, announcing the imminent arrival of his brother and the Queen of Scotland. They were several days early by his estimation, so he hoped nothing had been wrong, but the party seemed in happy spirits when they arrived.

Mary and her ladies had retired already for the evening, having the opportunity to get accustomed to their new home, but he had not had the opportunity to talk with his brother yet. Sebastian had seemed different when he returned, and Francis had an uneasy feeling every since he set foot back in the Chateau.

There was a soft knock on the sitting room door, and Sebastian stepped quickly into the room. He walked around to his brother’s chair, bowing his head in greeting.

“Oh, none of that nonsense, brother. It is just us at the moment,” grinned Francis, gesturing to the seat beside him. “How was the journey?”

“Quite pleasant, actually. We met no hindrance on the way there, or the way back. Having not been south in awhile, I was not sure what we might find,” acknowledged Bash, his body relaxing comfortably into the cushioned chair.

“And Mary? What do you think of her?” questioned Francis, a seriousness coming across his features. Sebastian glanced at his brother, not able to keep a smile from stretching across his face.

“She is wonderful. She is everything France needs in a Queen,” Bash paused, his face alight in emotion, “she is full of grace, and humility, and has some wonderful ideas for the court,” Sebastian gushed honestly. Francis kept his gaze on his brother, watching with interest how his animation in talking about Mary.

“Well, she has won your heart, that much is obvious,” Francis chuckled; both amused and slightly put off by his brother. As he watched his brother, he was not sure what bothered him more, his brother’s obvious admiration for Mary, or the way, just hours before, he saw Mary gaze at Bash during the welcome feast.

“How has the restoration been in my absence?” asked Bash, noticeably changing the subject as he cleared his throat. He was not one for blushing, but knew the fire was not the cause of the heat in his cheeks.

“Very well, actually. The rooms for Mary and her ladies were completed, as you saw earlier. We will let them do the decorating at a later date. As for this room,” Francis paused, looking at the bordered up windows, “it still needs some work.”

“All in due time, brother. I was most concerned that Mary and her ladies have a roof over their heads, but I will make these windows the next priority,” he smiled carelessly. He was pleased with all that had been accomplished while he was away.

“Did you bed her?” mused Francis quietly. Sebastian stiffened, unequivocally unprepared for the question.

“Who are we talking about?” the reply held little weight in the thickening atmosphere of the sitting room. Francis rolled his eyes in response.

“Did you bed my future wife?” The words were not whispered this time, instead they were more guttural, emanating from between clenched teeth.

“Why the sudden accusation?” Sebastian stood, hurt by his brother’s lack of trust in him, but further hurt by knowing his words had almost hit the target. They may not have slept together, but Bash’s thoughts were not so pure.

Francis stood too, coming face to face with his brother. He stared at Bash, looking for any sign of betrayal or fear. Bash met his gaze unwaveringly, and Francis sensed he had truly hurt his brother with the accusation.

“I am sorry, brother,” he replied carefully.

“Why did you accuse me of such a thing? You told me there was no one you trusted more with the task of bringing Mary to court and yet not even hours after we are back you are accusing me of treason!” Bash’s voice rose on the defensive. Francis sighed, plopping back into his chair.

“Sit, brother,” commanded Francis, and Bash did just that. “I am sorry. I never meant to accuse you of anything,” he paused, glancing up at Sebastian, “honestly, it has been difficult with you away this month. And after Nostradamus had a vision …”

“That bloody soothsayer again? Why are you still trusting him, Francis?” grumbled Sebastian, annoyed.

“I know your feelings towards him, but I trust him. He has not failed me yet,” whispered Francis, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.

“Dare I ask what the vision was this time?” mocked Sebastian, his annoyance with the old wizard evident.

“He told me Mary would rule powerfully by my side, and that together we would rule a greater France than we had ever known,” Francis paused, painfully remembering the vague words Nostradamus had whispered next, “but that darkness would return, and blood, yours and Mary’s, would be spilled. He saw a cavernous divide, with me on one side, and you on the other. He said Mary could not decide which side to stand on, and in an attempt to cross the darkness, it consumed her.”

A strange sensation rippled through Bash at the words. Could he have foreseen that Mary would be a divide between him and Francis? No, the old man’s words never fully came true, even though Francis would claim they did.

“It sounds like an intriguing children’s story, Francis, would it seems you have read too much into his fantasies,” sighed Bash. Francis started to protest, but halted.

“Maybe you are right, brother. I just … I do not want to mess things up.”

“Well then do not let him get in your head,” replied Sebastian, reaching over to grip his brother’s knee, “you are a great King, and Mary will be a great Queen. I must say, I agree with the wizard on one thing,”

“Quit calling him that,” admonished Francis.

“Fine, I agree with the crazy old man,” continued Bash and Francis sighed, chuckling along the way, “you and Mary, together, will rule a great France.”

Francis reached out to grasp his brother’s hand, still on his knee, and pulled him close in an embrace. “Forgive me for accusing you of such an atrocity?” Francis asked, holding his only living brother close.

“Always, or at least until next time you decide to accuse me of treason,” there was a lightness in his voice, and the brother’s laughed together.

Bash took his leave of his brother and King for the evening. As he left the room, a sense of relief flowed through him. He would need to mask his emotions when he was around Mary. He inwardly cried, knowing the task would be difficult. He would have to tell Mary soon, let her know Francis had a keen sense of observation, and whispers in his ear from Nostradamus. 

He reached his chamber; happy to see his workers had finally installed a door in his absence. He walked in, undoing his belt and tossing it on the table. After his long journey and his constant emotional upheaval, he wanted nothing more than a quiet rest. His shirt casually joined his belt, and his fingers moved to the laces of his trousers.

“Oh, do you sleep naked then?”

His fingers stilled at the female voice and he turned quickly towards his bed.

“Lola?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU. Enjoy!

"How dare you!" raged Mary, towering over Lola seated before her. After speaking with Sebastian, Mary had made all efforts to find her lady. His words still echoed in Mary's ears.

Mary remembered the early morning conversation clearly. He had sought her out as she strolled through the newly planted castle gardens.

"Your Grace," bowed Sebastian, finding Mary amongst the newly planted shrubs, "good morning."

"And a good morning to you too, Bash," replied Mary, happy to see her traveling companion. The sun had been up a few hours, but its rays glistened across his brow and locks like the sunrise, glowing in hues of gold and bronze. Mary found herself staring. "I hope you slept well," she added honestly.

"I would have, had it not been for an unwelcome guest in my chambers," muttered Bash. Mary's eyes widened, unsure who or what Bash was talking about. Had there been an intruder in the Chateau? Had the Holy Roman Emperor sent spies into their midst?

"Pray tell me Bash, what happened?" questioned Mary. She stepped closer, a hand reaching for his arm in comfort. Bash leaned back as Mary stopped her reach, both acknowledging the impropriety of the gesture given their current location. Mary inwardly cringed, realizing this would be her, or rather their, new reality. No more gentle touches of comfort or reassurance, no matter how innocent.

"I do not wish to cause trouble, but your Lady Lola entered my chambers without my permission," Sebastian spoke softly, but deliberately. It had unnerved him finding Lola in his chambers, and telling Mary the story also caused him great unrest.

He watched in fascination as Mary's face morphed through various shades of red. She was angry, and in her anger she was beautiful. Her eyes darted about as her fingers clenched in fists repeatedly. Her nostrils flared and her mouth opened and shut as if she could not bring herself to say the words she wanted so desperately too. She had begun to suspect Lola was up to something, or harbored feelings for Bash, but she had not envisioned the infatuation going this far.

"What did she say?" Mary asked, teeth grinding on every word. Sebastian dropped his head slightly, before gesturing to the path in front them. Understanding the motion, Mary fell in to step besides Bash as he began to walk.

"I will start by saying I had come from a most unpleasant talk with my brother, so I was not in the best mood to find Lola, in my chambers," he paused, "in my bed."

"What?!" exclaimed Mary, this time not hesitating to grip Sebastian's arm tightly to stop his forward motion. He angled his body towards her, hoping her hand would stay on his arm as long as possible. He relished it's warmth through the fabric of his tunic, wishing to feel it's warmth directly on his skin. He sighed, tormented by thoughts that would nevermore come to fruition. He needed to focus on the matter at hand, not daydream.

"Mary, I am worried about her intentions. She more or less offered herself to me, so I would not 'ruin Lady Mary and bring disgrace to our great country'," quoted Sebastian. Those had been Lola's exact words. Had she seen them that night on the road? Or was she making an assumption? Bash had no answer to those questions, but knowing someone else knew was far more dangerous now than how she came to know in the first place.

"She has no right," started Mary, her voice rising in agitation.

"Mary, that is not the point. The problem is she knows there are feelings between us, and she sees me as an obstacle to your successful rule in France," Bash spoke softly, though the garden currently had no other ears.

"I am glad that is how you justify her behavior," snipped Mary, anger still flushing her cheeks a fruitful red.

"Then why else would she be there?" asked Bash honestly. Mary huffed, turning on her heel and storming further down the path. Mary knew why. All those subtle words and hidden statements she picked up from Lola were actually true. She was a jealous woman, but also very stubborn. It was a minute before she heard his hurried steps behind her, so she turned to face him.

"Do you not see, Bash? She is jealous of me. I am to marry the King, be Queen to not one but two countries," sighed Mary, needing to continue, "and I bear the burden of loving the King's general and not acting upon it," these words were softer, tears forming around her eyes. She wanted his arms to comfort her now, to be able to cry uninhibited into his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her fingers. Glancing up, Mary knew he wished the same thing, and yet there they stood, space separating them like a castle moat.

"Do you trust her to not talk to anyone else?" Bash knew the question needed to be asked, afraid of how vindictive Lola might become, but Mary shook her head.

"She would not betray me," argued Mary.

"But you just said she is jealous of you. Jealously can turn even the most righteous person," Bash said sadly, "and anyways, she holds no such obligation of loyalty to me."

"Let me talk to her. I will make sure nothing like this happens again," Mary stood tall, every bit the embodiment of a Queen. Sebastian nodded, smiling at the beautiful young woman before him. "Oh Bash, before you go - the conversation with the King, you said it was unpleasant?"

Bash was hoping he could have gotten away from this conversation before Mary remembered. She did not need additional worries upon her shoulders.

"Never you mind, Mary, it was just a row between brothers," smiled Bash, the lie passing easily from his lips. Mary's gaze told him she knew that was not the truth, but she did not press him. She bid her goodbyes as he kissed her hand in parting, knowing she needed to find Lola.

"How dare you!" raged Mary, towering over a seated Lola before her.

"I was trying to save you any embarrassment, Mary. If anyone knew of your true feelings, it could be disastrous," moaned Lola.

"I thank you for your concern, Lola, but you have no idea what you are talking about. If I so much as hear one word that you tried to pull this stunt again you will be on the next boat to Scotland," Mary felt the anger within her, wanting to banish her now but refraining from doing so. Lola stood, facing Mary.

"It is not fair, you know, having both of them. Some day you will slip, but you will not be the only one falling," threatened Lola.

"Get out of my chambers!" ordered Mary, adding, "and do not come back until you are in a better state of mind."

Lola curtsied, her motions mocking, "Yes, Your Grace."

As her chamber door closed, Mary let out a muted scream. She thought Lola was loyal, but now she wondered if time had changed her friend. She had not seen this mocking behavior, or disrespectful attitude from her friend before. Mary had always wondered if they harbored any resentment towards her for pulling them away from their families in Scotland, living in isolation for so long in France. And yet now? Now they were barely unpacked in their new home, tensions mounting when they should have been happy.

"Mary?" Greer has appeared in the doorway, "it is time for lunch with the King."

Mary, in her anger, had almost forgotten she was to have lunch with Francis today. She smoothed her dress and took a calming breath.

"Thank you, Greer, I believe it is time."

"Ah Mary, my dear, how are you today," Francis spoke happily, rising to take Mary's hand and lead her into his private dining room. Mary was learning that most of Francis' rooms were complete as far as renovation, though a few windows were still boarded up.

"I am very well, Francis, thank you," Mary acknowledged, still unsure how to interact to the man, the King, she had only just met yesterday.

"Good," he replied, appearing unsure himself how to proceed, "shall we?"

Mary followed him to a small round table, a wide array of food choices laid out before her. It was not extravagant, by any means, but it was still more than she expected for a French court being rebuilt. They sat in silence, each picking a few items for their plate and eating softly. In between bites, Mary glanced at Francis. Yesterday had been a blur of names and faces, and she did not have the time to truly study the man before her. He was handsome, in a youthful way, his face void of signs of ruling, the lines of worry and weight of the kingdom. His hair curled around his face, a golden wave that added to his youthfulness. Despite being young, he looked like a King. His carried himself regally, his countenance proud.

He glanced up from his plate, his eyes meeting Mary's. He smiled cautiously, unsure the level of scrutiny he was receiving from the Queen before him. She grinned in return, and his face lightened.

"I am sorry, this has all been so abrupt I was not sure how to begin," Francis said honestly, chuckling.

Mary felt her smile widen, realizing he was just as nervous as she was. "I am glad I am not the only one who is nervous."

"Ha! Nervous does not begin to describe the flutters in my stomach," laughed Francis heartily, "so maybe I should start by asking something simple?" Mary nodded in agreement, her tension easing. "Good. Tell me about your time with the Lord and Lady Carme."

This was an easy topic for Mary to discuss, as the Carme's had been wonderful to her and her ladies. Soon, her plate of food was forgotten as she talked in length of her time in the small mountain town. Francis watched her hungrily, absorbing everything she said and responding with engaging questions. Several hours passed before Mary realized they had spent the entire afternoon talking. Outside of her time in conversation with Bash, speaking with Francis had easiest and most relaxing time in her life. It dawned on her that maybe marrying this King, this man, might be easier than she first thought.

"Mary, this has been a truly enlightening afternoon," Francis announced, "and I am looking forward to many more afternoons spent in this fashion."

His honesty shone through, and Mary felt relief flood through her body. Mary nodded, "I am looking forward to that as well, Francis."

"Good. Now, I have asked my brother to join us shortly. He will be giving you a complete tour of the Chateau," he paused, sensing the sudden shift in Mary's demeanor at the mention of Bash. He watched her temper her emotions quickly, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He remembered back to his brother's enthusiastic description of Mary, and the way he caught her staring in his brother's direction at the feast. She had spent a month in Bash's company, there was always the possibility she had developed some temporary feelings for him. Mary's voice brought him back to the conversation.

"I am looking forward to seeing the entire Chateau. The Duke spoke with such happiness about the work being completed here," the use of his brother's formal title did not go unnoticed by Francis. The happy young woman he spoken to for hours that afternoon had shifted back to a regal Queen.

"I am pleased," Francis smiled genuinely, choosing to not worry about Mary's emotional change earlier, "shall we go find my brother?"

Nodding, Mary accepted Francis' outstretched arm and stepped into his side as they walked. Her afternoon had been much more pleasant than she had anticipated, and as they walked in silence down the hall, the smile on Francis' face reflected her own sentiments.

I can do this, she thought. I can do this.

"How was your afternoon?" asked Bash, walking Mary through the art gallery, still under construction. Smiling, Mary spun her eyes around the room. There were a few portraits on the walls, many spots still vacant of any artwork.

"It was very pleasant actually," acquiesced Mary, stepping closer to Bash as they strolled, "he carries conversation easily, much like you do."

Bash smiled sheepishly, "He is easy to talk to," he paused, searching her face, "and thank you for the complement." The happiness spread from his smile to his eyes, and Mary admired how they gleamed when he was happy. He had stopped walking, looking up solemnly at a portrait.

"Who is this?" asked Mary, studying the kingly portrait before her. The man had been handsome, and seemed oddly familiar.

"King Henry, my father," replied Bash. Mary knew instantly why he appeared familiar, his features shone through in the man before her. She could also see the resemblance between Francis and his father. Both men could be likened to their father, but in very different ways.

"Do you miss him?" Mary wondered aloud, her eyes on Bash.

"At times I do. I miss his guidance. He did not shower us with affection, but he always knew the appropriate way to handle any situation," he acknowledged, remembering more the fireside chats than the hugs or handshakes. They continued walking the length of the room, Mary stopping to ask occasional questions about the portraits.

"Will there be anymore paintings?"

"Once we start recalling the nobles to court, then yes. My father divided many of the court valuables amongst the nobles, hoping that once the war was over they would return them to court. He would have rather had them in the hands of other Frenchmen than in the hands of the emperor," Bash remembered.

"Well then, the sooner we can recall them to court the better," remarked Mary, eager to see the former items restored to their rightful places. "You have been a wonderful tour guide so far, I am eager to see what is next." Bash laughed, and steered Mary down out of the gallery and down the hall.

Mary quickly learned which areas were completed, which few were nearly complete, and the areas that would take longer to finish. The great hall had been complete before Sebastian left, tall windows lining the outer walls and a working fireplace. Mary had noticed the boarded windows in Francis' rooms, and Bash had replied they would be installed soon. Her rooms were complete, as were her ladies, though they lacked much decoration. That, Bash admitted, would be left to Mary. In fact, Mary realized that commissioning artwork, or tapestries, or even furniture would be part of her royal duties. She looked forward to the challenge.

Continuing the tour, Mary learned the soldiers quarters were near completion outside the main Chateau. Between the outer wall and the Chateau was an open market place, where the local merchants and peasants could sell their wares. The idea for the market place had been Sebastian's, and though Francis initially rejected the plan, he now accepted and encouraged the market. Also almost complete were extensions to the servants quarters, and rooms for the nobles who would returning to court. Behind the Chateau, Sebastian's biggest endeavor was a gleaming chapel. It was half complete, and Bash acknowledged it would be awhile before work would be able to resume on the beautiful structure.

"It is beautiful," Mary whispered, straining to see the details through the Chateau windows. Bash did not say anything, but Mary could feel the smile radiating from his face.

"There is one more thing I need to show you," muttered Bash, as they turned and continued down the hall. He stopped in front of Mary's chambers, and she laughed.

"My chambers? I have become fairly acquainted with them over the past day and a half," she chuckled, wondering what Sebastian might be thinking.

"Have you?" there was a twinkle in his eye, but his face remained serious. Mary realized he was waiting for her to open the door, and so she did, motioning Bash to follow her. Her ladies were not present, leaving the two companions standing in silence. The door clicked shut, and Mary turned to protest, but Bash shock his head. He walked to the corner of her room, between a currently empty bookshelf and the fireplace. He beckoned her over.

"What is this about, Bash?" Mary questioned. There had been one tapestry in Mary's room when she arrived, and she watched Bash pull it aside. He reached for her hand, his fingers caressing hers and he placed them on the wall. She felt the coldness of a lock, a slight pressure as Bash turned her hand in his, and then an abrupt coldness. There was a door in the wall. Bash stepped through the opening, still keeping Mary's hand in his grasp, and pulling her behind him into the darkened passageway.

"There are a few hidden passageways within the Chateau, remnants of an older time. I have secured and reinforced them myself," he stuttered in the dark, the light from Mary's room the only brightness in the damp passage, "I need to show you this in case anything ever happens. You have a direct route outside the castle."

"Is the threat truly that real?" whispered Mary, a chill running through her body that was not due to the chilly damp.

"Let me get a light," he announced, reaching into the dark and retrieving a torch from the wall. He disappeared into her room, emerging quickly with the torch lit. Instinctively, she grasped his free hand, entwining their fingers. She pulled herself close against his side, the darkness of the passageway striking fear within her.

"No need to worry, Mary, there are very few people who know about these passages. Francis, myself, and now you, know of its existence," he murmured in the dark. He walked slowly, keeping Mary close by his side. Stopping at a door, he motioned to Mary, "this will take you to Francis' room."

"Wait, I thought his rooms were on the opposite side?" Mary asked, having visited what she thought were his suite of rooms for lunch earlier.

"Currently, yes, but this will be his rooms once you are married. These are meant to be the King and Queen suites," Sebastian uttered, continuing down the passage. They walked a while, taking a few turns, before he stopped again, "and this is the throne room. Should something happen, you and Francis can exit to safety quickly. I will show you the exit shortly."

The hair on Mary's neck prickled, and she had the strange sensation someone was watching her. Or watching them.

"This is the end of the tunnel on this side of the Chateau. This room," he pulled his hand from Mary's, touching the door slightly, "is mine. Should you need anything, do not hesitate," the words held no implications, as he meant the words in all honesty. If she needed anything, she knew where to find him. Built in to each of the secret passageway doors was a small sliding window, a means to verify the occupancy of the room. Mary filed everything away, hoping she could remember the way.

"Now, if we go this way, there is a door that leads to the dungeons and out of the castle," added Sebastian, turning Mary away from his door and down a different darkened passage.

Behind them, a shadow shifted in the darkness. Sebastian and Mary kept walking, oblivious to the motions or presence behind them. The darkness consumed the words spoken next, the syllables never reaching their intended target.

"Yes, Mary, the threat is very real indeed," the deep voice mumbled, "and guard your heart, or you will betray us all."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm back! I haven't disappeared – I have many plans for this story! I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU. Enjoy!

The gold caressed her fingertips like the warm summer sun as Mary held the roaring lion close against her chest. It radiated warmth and love throughout her whole being, and calmed her raging soul.

It was overwhelming, the volumes of fabric draped around her chambers. All her ladies were in awe of the vibrant colors, and Mary could not help but smile at their enthusiasm. Even Lola, who had smartly kept her distance, was smiling with Aylee as they touched the silks and laces.

Mary was planning a wedding. A wedding. Her wedding. To Francis, the King. And it needed to be splendid.

She had spent the last week reaching out to the nobles who had fled France during the war. Responses were slowly beginning to arrive to the Chateau, and the answers were filled with excitement. The wedding would be in two short weeks, and many nobles were planning their journey back to the Chateau for the glorious occasion.

"Oh Mary," exclaimed Kenna, her hand trailing along a shimmering red silk, "this would be exquisite on you."

"Red, Kenna?" laughed Mary, not enchanted by the iridescent crimson, "That is not quite wedding appropriate."

"Well it could be appropriate for after the celebration," Kenna grinned suggestively, wriggling her eyebrows to emphasize her suggestion. Of all Mary's ladies, Kenna was always the most lustful and sensual of the group, much to the outward vexation of the others.

Greer joined in the taunting, "Mary's bound to not make it through the entire feast, if Francis has his way. He is besotted with you, Mary."

Mary did not know whether to smile or laugh, because inside, the turmoil of her heart was trying to break free. She gripped the roaring lion closer in her fingers, and drawing the strength it provided, smiled easily at Greer. She needed to play along. She had to play along.

"I think Francis will have to pry me away from the planned feast first, as a full stomach will give me more energy," she winked, and the girls broke out in raucous laughter. She smiled with them, enjoying these free moments when they were all just girls, excited for new love and romance.

Her mind took a traitorous turn, as her words washed over her again. She was planning a wedding, that was to be sure, but she was also planning the first of her life. She would wed, and bed, the King of France, and God willing, give France, and Scotland, an heir. It was not so long ago she had imagined what a child of hers might look like, with untidy brown locks and sea-green eyes. She frowned, realizing that child was nothing but a fantasy.

"Have you selected your music choices Mary, for your main dances?" inquired Lola, speaking for the first time that afternoon. Mary hesitated, her previous thoughts still invading her mind. She searched Lola's face for any subterfuge, but the question was simple enough.

"I am only choosing the one for my first dance with Francis, and I think I have decided on …"

"But what about your dance with the Duke? I am sure you should pick something special," interrupted Lola, her eyes never leaving Mary's. Kenna and Aylee appeared oblivious to the subtle context of Lola's question, and kept rummaging through the fabrics, holding them up to each other and giggling. Greer, on the other hand, keenly observed the silent tug of war between Mary and Lola.

Mary blanched.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Lola," Mary stated firmly, but not with complete confidence.

"No, I heard it from Francis himself, actually." Lola spoke swiftly, as if explaining the situation to a dear friend, "you see, it is custom Mary that you should dance with Francis' father, but as he is no longer with us," she paused, making the sign of the cross in an attempt at feeble piety, "the duty should fall with his next living relative, which happens to be his brother."

Mary's mind worked feverishly. Was this a bluff? Was Lola trying to hurt Mary in the most emotional way now?

"Thank you, Lola, I was not accustom to this tradition. I will make sure to discuss it with Francis this evening."

Lola grinned smugly, bowing as if she was being an obedient lady to her Queen. Greer continued watching with interest.

Inwardly, Mary fumed. Lola had such audacity to bring up Bash in front of not just her, but Greer, Aylee and Kenna as well. Deciding not to let Lola's attitude get the better of her, Mary brought her sights back to the piles of fabric.

"I think this is the one," announced Mary, holding up a white silk.

"This is not a funeral, Mary," replied Kenna sarcastically.

"No, of course not, but I think the white draws a nice parallel between myself and our new France. White represents purity," Mary paused as Lola snorted, glaring openly at her lady, "as I said, white represents purity, and not so much purity of soul, but purity of a clean slate. Color's may be added as we grow, but we are both fresh and clean to begin anew."

"That is beautiful Mary," whispered Greer.

"Thank you, Greer. I think you deserve something special as well. Pick whatever fabric you would like and I will commission a special dress for each of you."

The ladies squealed, and Mary laughed as Kenna immediately snatched the red silk she had suggested to Mary earlier.

"Luke says thank you," Kenna giggled, and danced away happily.

Smiling, Mary glanced at the rest of her ladies. Aylee was humming softly as she fingered a light pink lace, draping it across her arm and smiling to herself. Lola was no where to be seen. Greer walked slowly towards Mary, her face guarded.

"Is everything all right between you and Lola, Mary?" she asked softly. Mary grasped her ladies hand, pulling her towards the chairs near the window.

"Lola is apparently jealous of my good fortune," Mary replied, a half-truth woven into her words.

"That seems silly, for your good fortune is our good fortune," acknowledged Greer, ever seeing the bright side of things.

"Yes, well, I think she will come around in time."

"I am sure she will," Greer atoned, reaching for Mary's handing and holding it tightly. "What is this, Mary?"

Mary realized she had still been grasping Bash's ring, and Greer now had it in her hands.

"Tis nothing," Mary stumbled, reaching quickly for the lion.

"It is beautiful," Greer spoke in awe, her finger tracing the roaring feline, "why were you holding it and not wearing it?"

"It is too big," lied Mary, though it was the truth. The real truth could not fall from her lips. It is a gift from my beloved, as I can never he his, nor he be mine, would not be the appropriate response.

"Oh I can remedy that! Claude is an excellent blacksmith, come," Greer walked hurriedly toward the door, Mary following helplessly in her wake.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The two walked feverishly through the Chateau halls, dodging scaffolding and weaving through laborers. Exiting the Great Hall, May cautiously followed Greer through the winding street. The marketplace was winding down after their morning business, so few people were out and about. Instinctively, Mary knew Greer was leading her towards the soldiers quarters.

"Through here," Greer motioned, passing under the stone archway. The corridor was open to the marketplace on one side, pillars placed along the street edge to support the balustrade above. Ahead, Mary caught a glimpse of a flame, and realized there was a small alcove big enough for blacksmithing.

"Greer!" Claude greeted cheerfully, wiping soot off his face and grinning broadly, "I would hug you if I was not covered in soot," he chuckled. Greer blushed. "Your Grace," he acknowledged Mary, bowing his head slightly.

"Claude, I was hoping you could help us," he nodded, watching Greer. She held out her hand, the gold ring sparkling in her palm. He reached the ring, inspecting it closely before his eyes widened. Mary felt her heart hammering in her chest. He recognized the ring, she thought. He knows it belongs to Bash. He will wonder why I have it.

"Why do you have this? I can return it to…" began Claude.

"Return it? Silly, it belongs to Mary, and I was hoping you could resize it for her," Greer continued.

Claude lifted his gaze to Mary's. Her lip trembled, and she hastily bit it to calm her nerves. It felt like an eternity that he held her gaze, questions, or maybe realizations, passing through his mind.

After the short silence, Claude resumed the conversation, "Of course I can adjust it for you, Your Grace. Which finger would you like the ring to fit?"

There was an awkward tension between the two of them, though Greer was blissfully unaware.

"I am not sure," Mary hesitated, her thoughts jumbled, "Greer, would you mind fetching my shawl?"

"Really Mary? It is rather warm today," Greer responded, tilting her head in question.

"Yes, please, but my lighter one," smiled Mary, hoping to speak to Claude alone. Greer nodded, smiling at Claude before heading back the way they came.

He watched her retreating form, before turning back to Mary.

"This is the General's ring," he stated bluntly, eyes narrowing perceptively at Mary. She dropped her gaze, suddenly very interested in her shoes. But she knew she had to acknowledge the statement now.

She nodded.

"Did you find it?"

She shook her head no.

"He gave it to you," his voice was softer now, and quiet.

"Yes," Mary spoke before thinking, "yes, he did."

Claude reached for Mary's right hand, and she let him, his large hands engulfing her own. He placed the ring on her thumb, where it still overwhelmed her finger. His fingers moved gently, taking the ring off her finger again and moving towards the fire. She watched him work, hammering softly on the gold. It was obvious in his gaze that he understood the ring for what it was, or at least that it was a token of great affection. She knew he was loyal to his General, of that she was certain.

She glanced over her shoulder, expecting Greer to be returning shortly.

The silence between them was a bit unnerving, though Mary supposed it was better he was not saying anything than if he did. He worked quickly, smoothing the metal as he reshaped the band. She glanced over her shoulder again, but Greer was not in sight. A hiss of hot metal being placed in water brought Mary back to her senses.

"Will this do?" Claude asked quietly, the ring placed in the palm of his outstretched hand. The metal looked so small in this man's large hand, as if a good squeeze would easily crush the seasoned gold. She plucked it quickly from his outstretched hand, gazing at his work.

It was remarkable, how he had worked the band. Originally, the band was slim, widening in them middle with the roaring lion etched within. Now, the back of the ring matched the front, narrow at the sides and wide in the middle. She slid it gently on her thumb, noting it fit perfectly.

"May I, Your Grace?" Claude asked, holding out his hand towards hers. Mary nodded, raising her hand so he could see the gold band. His fingers touched the ring, moving it gently around her slender finger. He left the roaring lion facing her, and when she lifted her gaze towards him, he shifted the ring. It was a subtle difference, but Mary noticed it. The ring was a mirror image now on each side, and no one would have to see the lion. It could be against her palm, protecting her.

"Thank you," Mary whispered, her fingers now tracing the band.

"You're welcome, Your Grace," he acknowledged, smiling broadly at his future Queen, "and please, Your Grace, be careful. I know the story behind that ring. The General would not part with it easily."

There was no harshness to his words, but the implication was there. The ring had been important to Bash. She, therefore, was important to Bash.

Mary nodded, feeling no other words were needed. She turned, seeing Greer walking up with her shawl.

"Here you are, Mary," Greer cheered, placing the light lace shawl across Mary's shoulders. She waved back and Claude, and turned to walk back towards the Chateau with her mistress.

"Was Claude able to adjust the ring?" Greer asked innocently. Mary nodded, and the two chatted amicably as they sauntered back into the Chateau.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Mary enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with her ladies, making the final arrangements with the local seamstresses on Mary's wedding gown, and her ladies' formal dresses. They would all be splendid, and fit for a new era at the French court.

They took tea in her sitting room, the curtains open to let in the afternoon sun and a light breeze. Mary could see the continued work being completed on the Chateau through the window, and she admired Bash's handiwork.

"Ladies, I do hope I am not interrupting," a genteel voice spoke from the chamber doorway. Mary beamed up at the man who had entered her chambers, his golden hair sparkling in the sunlight.

"Francis, what a pleasant surprise," exclaimed Mary, genuinely happy to see him. Though Bash held her heart and was occupying her thoughts, she could not help but be charmed by the young King.

"I am glad to hear you say so," acknowledged Francis, grinning at his soon-to-be wife, "I was hoping you might like to walk around the grounds with me. I would like to show you some ideas I have for the great hall, for our wedding."

"I would love to," Mary agreed, standing from her chair near the window. Greer handed Mary her light shawl from earlier, Francis intercepted it, moving to wrap the lacy material around her shoulders.

"Thank you," Mary whispered, weaving her arm through his outstretched one, and they began their outing.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Later that evening, much to Mary's chagrin, she admitted to herself that Francis was a nice man and a great King, with an astounding love of his country. She felt the acknowledgement betrayed Sebastian and her feelings for him, that she admired Francis. She tried to convince herself that was not the case, that finding the man who would be her husband charming was not a crime. If anything, it was a good sign that she did not fear him, nor loathe him. He had shown her nothing but kindness and generosity.

She pictured both men in her mind, side by side. Both were handsome, hopeful men, gracious and kind. One held her love, the other held her growing affection. She briefly wondered that had she met Francis first, would her situation now be different. He was an easy man to love, and watching those around her give him their loyalty without question was breathtaking. But the pull towards Sebastian was undeniable. It was primal, and deep rooted, and Mary knew no matter the circumstances, she would have loved him deeply. She did love him deeply. The situation held no sway.

As slumber overtook her, the image of Francis slowly faded, while a grinning, disheveled Bash smiled handsomely back at her.


End file.
